


Lovely Night

by Jh3richo



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Violence, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Junkenstein's Revenge AU, Mild Gore, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-28 16:58:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 67,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12611172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jh3richo/pseuds/Jh3richo
Summary: The knight surprised Angela.It was reckless and foolish to trust the strange woman, but Angela decided that since she wasted supplies, time, and was taking her away from that awful kingdom that it couldn't be so bad.





	1. Lovely Night

**Author's Note:**

> Time is an illusion and every day is Halloween if you believe hard enough. I apologize for any mistakes, this was finished in a rush but feel free to point and laugh at them! I was also very unsure on how exactly to tag this, so I'm sorry again for that!
> 
> Happy Halloween!

Leaves crunched lightly in the horse's wake, the dead branches that lay with them snapping on occasion. A breeze lazily lifted the hair that had been stuck to the back of her neck and forehead, granting of moment of reprieve from the sweltering sun.

Thank god the infernal light was gradually sinking into darkness.

Angela tried to shift herself but only succeeded in nearly sliding off the saddle for the umpteenth time of the day. An armored arm went around her back to catch her and press her limp body into the chest of the knight that held her.

Turning her head inward and resting her cheek on heated armor, the witch tried to gaze at the eyes that were hidden by a strange helmet.

The knight remained silent, arm tightening slightly to keep Angela in place.

The chestnut horse beneath them came to a stop and brayed lowly, hoof kicking at the dirt and head shaking quickly. A sword was drawn and lifted out, the knight letting out a low whistle while searching the treeline for signs of life.

The ache in Angela's body intensified as she tried to stretch her mind to the horse's and understand it's fear. Sweat began rapidly forming on her forehead as she twitched her fingers and tried to rasp out a quiet spell, but her voice remained missing.

With another try, she let out a hoarse whine that was cut off by a harsh cough. The pain in her throat brought tears to her eyes and the knight's attention back to her.

 _Damn this..._ Angela thought as she brought a hand between their chests and to the tightly wound cloth around her neck, feeling the slowly healing puncture pulse with a painful heat.

All of the tears and holes that littered her body were aching, fighting her mind and magic for the right to be healed first and leaving her drained.

The battle for the castle left her reeling.

They were winning, _she_ was winning.

The four fools were caught off guard when she appeared before them and brought back her servants. They weren't ready for the final verse of her deadly song, they had no chance of holding the door.

And yet, here she was. Body broken, mind exhausted, and chest heavy with rage.

Upon realizing that they were indeed ready for the final battle, the witch had transformed her battered self into a crow to make her escape. With the final call to the Reaper to kill them no matter the cost, her voice had been quite literally ripped from her throat.

A well placed shot by that damned archer, Angela could admit. The arrow went straight through her neck and sent her spiraling off the bridge into the freeze river below.

She could remember tumbling end over end, wings catching on branches and rocks and snapping painfully at each one. At some point the arrow had gotten snagged and was violently ripped out and after that there was nothing but unconscious agony.

The horse whinnied loudly and Angela lazily moved her eyes towards the trees to view them with uncertainty. The hairs on her arms were standing on end and she could feel each individual finger and toe nail. Whatever it was spooking the horse was charged with the arcane.

The knight released Angela suddenly and shifted her to lean against the horse's neck as she dismounted. Sword in hand and bow in the other, the woman made a slow circle around Angela and her steed before taking the reins and leading them on.

Angela reached backwards to grip the horse's hair in an attempt to keep herself from falling off, but her strength hadn't returned whatsoever. She knew she was falling but made no motion to stop herself, merely bracing for the hard impact against the cold ground.

She was caught swiftly and lifted into the arms of the armored woman, head resting on a chest plate. The knight chuckled and shifted the witch slightly in her arms, muttering something in her unfamiliar tongue.

The knight surprised Angela.

One of the first memories she had was waking in a stream, still formed as a crow and still bleeding out.

Heavy footfalls brought her to a lethargic alertness. Warm hands lifting her tiny self from the cold water were gladly welcomed, the warm blanket that followed even more so.

The witch found herself swaddled and placed near a crackling fire among a small camp, her savior humming a lithe tune while roasting some small creature over the fire.

Angela watched the woman eat her meal with uncertainty, unsure if she wanted to reveal herself and demand food as well or reveal herself to not be food.

She tried to chirp as she was lifted but nothing came out save for an excruciating pain. Angela was brought up to stare into deep umber eyes, a calloused finger rubbing the top of her head in a gentle motion.

It felt wonderful, especially compared to her hurting body, and she couldn't stop her eyes from sliding shut in comfort.

The woman cooed at her softly in a foreign tongue and placed her back on the ground for a few moments to gather bits of cloth and pouches of smelling ointments.

The process of being bound and wrapped was an agony of it's own, made worse by her inability to voice her pains and discomforts. After it was over with, Angela let herself relax into her blanket and allow herself to sink into sleep.

It was reckless and foolish to trust the strange woman, but Angela decided that since she wasted supplies, time, and was keeping her in a small sling around her chest that it couldn't be so bad.

The witch traveled with the knight for days, unsure of where they were or where they were going but thankful to be able to rest and recuperate.

It was the fifth night that Angela decided it was time to take her leave.

The knight was sleeping beside her and had been for quite some time. With a flick of the wing and a hastily drawn magic circle in the dirt, Angela could feel her body begin shifting back into that of a human.

It should have been quick and easy, but she seriously underestimated her recovery.

The change was more painful than before as her wounds stretched and tore to match her new body, nearly healed bones snapping once again as they grew and rearranged.

Her voice was still absent, thank the gods, but the whimpers she made were enough to rouse the sleeping woman.

Angela lay curled into herself on the ground, naked and shivering as the knight leapt from her sleeping roll and drew a thick knife. A harsh demand was given to the witch but she could do nothing but allow her eyes to roll back and fade into darkness.

Surprised again, Angela woke to find herself dressed in a woolen tunic and in the woman's bedding. The knight greeted her with a steaming bowl of broth and more bandages. Silence between them remained then and now, the only communication either seemed capable of being quick glances and small hand motions.

Which is why when the knight gently swept her hand out towards the ground Angela knew what she was telling her.

Angela moved too slowly to be of much help but insisted on retrieving the bed roll and eating utensils from the saddle bag as the knight built the fire.

They would keep their distance from each other, make a show of everything they would find or do so that the other would understand it was harmless. The dark haired woman may have spared Angela thus far, but the witch was doubtful of how long the kindness would last.

The horse stamped the ground as she approached it, eyes staring at her intensely as she collected what she needed. A shaky hand was placed on the beast's neck and with a deep sigh the witch channeled her mind outward.

' _Whatever troubles you...ignore it._ '

A snort was the only response she received from the mount.

The two moved around each other at length and kept to themselves as they made their camp. The setting sun cast a pale orange light upon them and Angela found herself watching the sky's changing colours rather than helping.

Her eyes traced the deep orange and purple hues that stained the sky. The beginnings of twinkling stars could been seen if she squinted hard enough. A silver line traced the horizon through the trees where Angela assumed a body of water lay. It truly was a lovely view.

Another breeze danced around her, and her eyes slid shut at the delicious cool that overcame her.

In that moment her skin began crawling and her stomach bottomed out. The raw energy that slammed into her brought her the the ground and Angela willed her trembling limbs to turn towards the knight.

She was rushing towards the witch, helmet off and concern etched onto her face when something slammed full force into her. The knight went spinning off into the treeline, her horse rearing back and releasing a loud cry before taking off.

Angela's head felt heavy as she lifted it to view the creature before her.

Thick, dark black fur stood on end as the direwolf stalked forward, it's yellow eyes narrowing to slits as it bared rows of sharp teeth at the witch.

Angela could hear it whispering to itself – or perhaps a master – about her. The words 'witch', 'powerful', and 'hungry' could be clearly made out and Angela felt herself tense. There was no time to draw a magic circle and the knight was--

\--suddenly charging the wolf with her sword raised.

The beast swiveled to meet the woman head-on and lunged with snapping jaws. The sword slashed at the wolf uselessly, it's fur too dense to break past and cause any damage to the flesh below. With a loud snarl the direwolf knocked the knight backwards and clamped it's jaws around her leg.

The knight yelled in pain and brought the flatside of her sword down on the wolf's head, stunning it long enough to rip her leg free. The appendage was leaking copious amounts of blood onto the ground and hung loosely by scraps of her trousers and flesh.

Angela stayed hunched on the ground and watched the direwolf lower itself to pounce, blood dripping from it's jowls. The knight's sword lay uselessly beside her and the sunlight glinting off it gave Angela an idea.

On quaking limbs and with a pounding head, Angela rose to her feet and stared at the back of the creature. Heat formed in the palms of her hands and raced through her bones up to her throat, where it culminated into a torturous fire.

A shaking arm was lifting and she focused on the sword beyond the wolf, her eyes flashing a light green as her voice returned and yelled, “ _Omnipotens invoca!_ ”

The sword came to life with a loud crack, both knight and direwolf jumping from the weapon as it erupted into purple flame. Angela could stand no more and dropped to her knees, watching the knight through hazy vision grasp the sword and rise.

Her leg dragged uselessly behind her as she charged the wolf with a cry, weapon raised and ready to meet the wolf's teeth. The sword sliced through the wolf's head cleanly, taking it off it's neck and sending it skipping across the ground as it's body violently erupted blood.

Gore spattered the ground and nearly Angela, the knight stepping between the two and taking the majority of the gross on her back. Thick and steaming streams of blood were flowing down the knight's head, both eyes closed to keep it out.

The body hit the ground hard and the knight turned to flick dripping blood from her sword at it. She spat out the thick black liquid and growled something at the dead creature before turning her head towards Angela.

The sword she wield was glowing a deep purple and the magic would travel in heavy pulses from the blade to the dark haired woman's arm.

With a weak inhale, Angela released a raspy and cracked laugh. The knight gave her a strange look but quickly dropped to the ground with a pained groan, dropping her enchanted sword and gripping her injured leg tightly with both hands.

Angela crawled to her and grasped her shoulder tightly, mostly to keep herself upright as a wave of nausea and lightheadedness overtook her. The dark haired woman stilled at her touch but continued hissing through her teeth at the pain.

The witch placed a hand over the knight's and focused on what lay beneath, whispering a breathless command to replace the broken and mend the torn. Slowly but surely the leg began to reform and the dark haired woman watched in awe.

With a relieved sigh the knight relaxed slightly and flexed her leg, staring into blue eyes through lashes coated in blood with a small smile.

The smile returned to Angela's lips as she took in the sight, glancing from the bloody knight to the sky behind her. With a chuckle and a small motion of the hand she wheezed out, “What a waste of a lovely night.”

Something was said back to her and Angela bit her lip in thought. Truthfully, now would be the perfect time to take her leave and go on her way. But the look the knight was giving her combined with the curiosity of why she would even bother saving a witch won out in the end.

Angela moved her hand to the back of the woman's neck and brought her closer to press their lips together in a feather-light kiss. The knight pulled back in surprise but Angela kept her still, letting magic flow between the two and causing a pleasant warmth to grow from their lips.

The spell was complete, the witch had what she needed, but the knight kept her in place and deepened the kiss. It was no longer for utility, and frankly Angela wasn't sure why they were kissing so intensely but she wasn't ready to let it end.

It took a few more moments of hasty pleasure for her to realize that she was quite literally beginning to suck to the life out of the knight and pushed herself away.

Dark eyes watched her with a deep intensity and the knight released an airy laugh. “A bird becomes a woman, a woman becomes a witch, a witch becomes my savior. How strange this land is.”

Angela sighed in relief. The spell had worked and she felt far better than before. The energy she stole was enough to stop her hands from shaking so harshly and she slowly stood.

“I am no savior.” Her voice was still hoarse and gruff but thankfully returned.

“Ah, I see. So the kiss was for thanks and for communication. How thoughtful of you.” The knight spoke as she stood and took in her filthy appearance. She met the witch's gaze again and added, “I don't suppose you can magic me clean?”

The witch started towards the unfinished fire and tossed over her shoulder, “Magic comes with a price, noble knight. So no, I shall not 'magic' you clean. That's what water and cloth is for.”

“'Noble knight'?” With a laugh, a hand was extended to her. “I am known as Pharah of the Sands, Captain of the Helix Guard and Bringer of Justice. But, I am Fareeha to those I call friends.”

Angela scoffed at the hand and the introduction, wetting her lips before responding. “You do realize the danger in telling a witch your true name, yes?”

Fareeha smirked at her in a challenge. “You do realize I have saved your life twice now, yes? Surely that puts me in your good favor.”

“I believe I was the one who enchanted the sword. And I don't make favors, I make deals.”

“And I didn't ask you to enchant my sword, I merely wield it. So make me a deal.”

The sword was lifted from the ground and sheathed as Fareeha reached up to push her hair back in a smooth motion. Angela watched her with a quirked eyebrow as she approached the firepit with a swagger in her step.

She seemed much more confident suddenly, much more animated and full of herself. It was amusing to watch her preen like a show pony across the camp.

Fareeha knelt down to start the fire, looking up at Angela when she finished and motioning around. Angela approached and slowly lowered herself to the ground at the motion to sit, the relief at being off her feet instant.

“Why did you save me?” She asked slowly, her voice still thick and gritty. “Both times that is. I was fully expecting to be killed when I became human again.”

“You were injured.” Fareeha said simply. She elaborated at the look she received. “Birds are said to be creatures of old, wise and true beings who bring about luck. I couldn't leave one to a painful death. Nor could I leave a woman to die.”

Angela snorted and viewed her dirty finger nails instead of the other woman's gaze. “How disgustingly aristocratic. And I suppose you were just going to let a dying woman travel to who knows where with you until she was released of her earthly tether?”

Fareeha began digging through one of her bags and produced a cloth to wipe her face while she spoke. “Not quite. There was a little village I passed through some weeks ago with a very kind doctor. I had intentions of taking you to him, but you seem capable of healing yourself.”

“So what now would you do with me?”

A shrug. “What do you want me to do with you?”

The immediate response Angela came up with brought a smirk to her face and she was unable to keep her eyes from raking over the knight's form. “You aren't going to burn me at the stake, run me through with your almighty sword, or drag me behind your horse? I'm surprised, a knight who doesn't want to kill a witch isn't a very good knight at all.”

“A witch who has made no attempts at my life since meeting.” Fareeha acknowledged and began removing her ruined armor.

Angela sat forward and raised her eyebrows, “How do you know I won't kill you tonight in your sleep?”

“Because you owe me, deal or not.”

She rose to begin moving the body of the direwolf off into the trees, returning a few moments later and slumping to the ground with a deep sigh.

The witch watched her with a careful eye and said slowly, “You are either seeking death or foolish to ask for a deal from me.”

“It's called trust.” Fareeha said with a pointed look, “And if I'm foolish or seeking death because of it as are you.”

Angela grimaced. She had a point. “What is it you wish, knight?”

“Fareeha. And I wish,” Fareeha began slowly, mulling over her thoughts before raising a finger, “to know where my horse has gone.”

Angela laughed, deep in her chest and long enough to break into a coughing fit. “Is that all?” She asked in a wheeze.

Fareeha nodded. “A good companion is all a wanderer needs.”

“Why are you a wanderer?” Angela asked.

“Why are you a witch?” Fareeha countered.

“To become an all powerful god.” Angela said simply while sitting back, “To test the limits and defy what those who came before us defined as 'impossible'. To learn, to risk, to _live_."

She pointed with her chin to the dark haired woman and waited expectantly.

“I'm afraid I am not as ambitious.” Fareeha murmured as she lit a fire, a hard look taking her features. “I wander to find a purpose, nothing more nothing less. I have lost everything – _everyone_ important to me. I search for an answer I fear doesn't exist.”

“Perhaps I know that answer, I am quite clever.”

With a chuckle the woman lifted her gaze and said, “Yes, so clever that you got yourself stuck transformed as a bird and injured to near death.”

“So clever that I nearly destroyed the lives of thousands of people in one fell swoop, that I nearly toppled an entire kingdom in one night.”

She snarled as she sat forward, anger flaring high in her chest at the memories. “I could slit your throat with just a look and have your damned horse come back to consume your corpse.”

Fareeha smirked at her anger and cocked a brow. “ _Nearly_? You can bark and and growl all you want at me, witch, but I don't feel the slightest twinge of fear towards you.”

Rage bubbled in Angela's chest and before she knew it she dissipated into smoke and launched herself at the knight. She struck her in the chest and knocked her backwards, reforming quickly and pressing an arm harshly on Fareeha's neck.

She grit her teeth and cut off the woman's airway, searching her dark eyes for the fear and surprise but finding none. Fareeha stared back evenly, letting her face turn red from the lack of air and the witch remain atop her.

The anger vanished the moment Angela realized that the woman wasn't reacting. Why wasn't she reacting?

Why didn't she act like every other person who crossed the witch's path? Why was she so damn infuriating and yet so calming? Why was she so _nice_? 

With a huff the blonde pushed herself off and hit the ground hard, unprepared for the faintness that came from using so much magic. Fareeha's hands were on her shoulders and gently sat her up to lean against her.

Angela let herself go limp in the woman's hold and her head fall on her collarbone, her eyelids heavy and her consciousness slipping. She jolted herself to stay away, fighting the sleep that yearned to win her over.

“Sleep, witch.” Fareeha uttered in her ear softly, “How about _I_ be the one who makes a deal? I shall not harm you as you rest and heal. You have my word as a knight.”

With a quick bite to the lower lip, the witch made a irresponsible decision. “Angela.” _Damn it, why the hell would I...damn this woman._

A hand gently traced her jawline and pushed hair behind one ear as Fareeha looked into her eyes. “How shall we seal this then, Angela?”

The witch answered by taking the knight's bottom lip between her own and sighing at the contact. The woman smelled like blood, the scent thick and heady. It grounded Angela, reminded her of the fight for Adlersbrunn while simultaneously causing her to forget.

It was pleasant, both the kiss and the ability to forget the painful loss for the moment. The wish to make it last was a silent one made, but granted as the knight kissed her back.

Fareeha smirked against her and deepened the kiss, stopping to mumble into her mouth, “I can feel you sapping me of my strength, you know.”

Angela gripped her leathers tightly and leaned back to view her. “Frankly darling, I don't give a fuck.”

“Darling?” Fareeha's smirk grew to a grin and she brushed her nose against Angela's, “I dare to think that your trust in me has birthed fondness, witch.”

A harsh push sent the knight back to the ground and Angela loomed over her with a mischievous look in her eye. She no longer felt fatigued.

“Fondness? You have my intentions mistaken, I'm afraid." Fareeha's eyes reflected the firelight as well as the flickering stars that encompassed the dark sky above them. A lovely view indeed.

"Perhaps this lovely night isn't wasted after all.”

 


	2. Dreary Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You like helping people, I know you do – so why don't you?”
> 
> The witch's fingernails dug into the wood of the table as she hissed through her teeth. “What have people ever done for me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I never intended to continue this but I had a day off and couldn't sleep at all so we're here now! I was honestly very surprised at how much people enjoyed this and it's a very nice surprise, b̶u̶t̶ ̶I̶'̶m̶ ̶a̶f̶r̶a̶i̶d̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶o̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶c̶o̶n̶t̶i̶n̶u̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶p̶a̶s̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶c̶h̶a̶p̶t̶e̶r̶.̶
> 
> I̶ ̶w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ ̶l̶o̶v̶e̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶t̶u̶r̶n̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶i̶n̶t̶o̶ ̶a̶ ̶s̶e̶r̶i̶e̶s̶ ̶b̶u̶t̶ ̶I̶'̶m̶ ̶a̶l̶r̶e̶a̶d̶y̶ ̶w̶o̶r̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶o̶n̶ ̶o̶n̶e̶ ̶P̶h̶a̶r̶m̶e̶r̶c̶y̶ ̶f̶i̶c̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶i̶t̶'̶s̶ ̶c̶o̶n̶s̶u̶m̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶q̶u̶i̶t̶e̶ ̶a̶ ̶b̶i̶t̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶m̶y̶ ̶f̶r̶e̶e̶ ̶t̶i̶m̶e̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶d̶o̶ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̶ ̶i̶d̶e̶a̶s̶ ̶o̶n̶ ̶h̶o̶w̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ ̶c̶o̶n̶t̶i̶n̶u̶e̶ ̶b̶u̶t̶ ̶I̶ ̶f̶e̶a̶r̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ ̶g̶r̶o̶w̶ ̶s̶t̶a̶l̶e̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶I̶ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̶ ̶n̶o̶ ̶w̶a̶y̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶c̶o̶n̶n̶e̶c̶t̶ ̶m̶y̶ ̶i̶d̶e̶a̶s̶ ̶i̶n̶t̶o̶ ̶o̶n̶e̶ ̶c̶o̶h̶e̶r̶e̶n̶t̶ ̶s̶t̶o̶r̶y̶l̶i̶n̶e̶.̶ ̶I̶'̶m̶ ̶s̶o̶r̶r̶y̶ ̶i̶f̶ ̶I̶ ̶d̶i̶s̶a̶p̶p̶o̶i̶n̶t̶ ̶a̶n̶y̶o̶n̶e̶ ̶w̶i̶t̶h̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶n̶e̶w̶s̶!̶
> 
> Cheers!

The wind whistled around her, branches cracking and trees bending as she shot past them. The rising sun's pure white greeting would catch her in the eye in between the thick leaves and blind her. The momentary lack of sight angered her further, and the witch released a high pitched screech as she forced herself to move faster.

She had long since abandoned all semblance of a living creature, now a massive collection of wispy smoke that destroyed everything she touched. It was taking a lot of her energy to move this fast, too much to keep a proper form and too much to not sap the life from everything that came into contact.

The witch was late.

Smoke was lazily swirling out of the chimney of the stone cottage when it came into view. The protective spell that hid the clearing stuck to Angela as she passed through it, leaving traces of syrupy magic on her being.

With a sharp downward turn, her legs formed from the smoke and so followed her body as she stepped onto a small footbridge to cross the river that separated the clearing. Her cloak flowed out around her as she took purposeful strides towards the cottage, acutely aware of her own heavy breathing.

The small stable she passed rustled with life and Angela slowed momentarily to gaze inside. A dark brown nose poked out towards her and the chestnut horse brayed lowly in greeting.

“Not now, Horus.” Angela spat with unintentional venom, the horse snorting in response and surely cursing her through it.

The witch willed her heart to slow and her breathing to even out as she approached the door to the cottage, walking up the steps and raising her hand to knock at the wooden door. She paused, knuckles resting on the worn oak as she strained to hear any movement inside.

Her heart clenched tightly in her chest and Angela couldn't help the deep frown from forming. She was being irrational. The damned horse was here, it's rider would be too.

But she was late...

“Oh for fucks sake.” Angela huffed, knocking once then thrice in a rhythmic pattern.

The door creaked as it opened, the witch stiffening with guilt at the darkness that awaited her inside. She slipped through quickly and shut the door to avoid letting any of the cold follow her in, blinking to try and adjust to the darkness of the hut.

A small fire cast a faint orange glow in the right corner, among it a steaming pot that emitted a delicious scent. The only other light in the single room came from a small collection of lit candles resting in the center of a tiny wooden table, two sets of worn dishes carefully placed before both seats.

Angela turned her gaze to the opposite side of the room and to the woman sitting on the bed against the wall. Her armor stood impressively on a stand at the end of the bed, her leathers tossed around the glimmering steel.

Dark eyes met blue and Angela released the breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

“I'm sorry.” It was the first and only thing she could think of, and it was said in a rush as she closed the distance between them.

Fareeha rose to meet her, pulling the witch into her chest and trapping her there, swaying slightly as they embraced. Angela inhaled the earthy scent of the knight deeply, relaxing into her hold and squeezing her tightly.

The knight let go first, stepping around the witch and approaching the steaming pot over the fire. As she produced a spoon and began stirring its contents Fareeha glanced at the blonde over her shoulder. “You're late, but so was I. I arrived just before midnight.”

Angela unclasped her cloak and tossed it over the knight's armor before crossing the room and taking a seat at the table. “Where did your wanderings take you this time?” She asked with a smile, turning the chair to face the woman and the heat of the fire.

“To the mountains.” Fareeha answered simply as she placed the spoon aside and rose to her full height.

“Again? That's the fourth time you've gone there.” Angela scoffed and crossed one leg over the other. “How dreadfully boring.”

The knight chuckled and met her gaze with a wary look. “I can't wander too far. Otherwise I wouldn't be able to make it back to this place every month. A price I am willing to pay, however.”

The witch frowned at this and looked away. She was not having this conversation right now, again.

They had agreed to meet every month, to go about their business but spend one night together in a place all their own. Sometimes it was more than one night, the longest being a full week that they spent in the tiny hovel. It was pleasant in more ways than one for both of them. They had a place to return to and something to look forward to. And the company of each other.

Granted that a majority of that company was spent making one moan louder than the other, but to say it wasn't enjoyable would be a blatant lie. The time spent in between was equally as pleasurable, all things considered.

Fareeha found the cottage during her travels and revealed it to Angela along with a new deal.

“Once a month.” She said as they surveyed the land from a distance, “One sun and moon cycle, no more no less.”

Angela had given her a critical eye at the cabin and the deal, the knight's only reasoning given through a crooked grin, “A place to come home to is a lovely thing.”

And after eight months of coming 'home', Fareeha began pushing for them to return more often.

The witch had humored the idea at first, but during the tenth month and the four days they stayed together she had given her final answer.

The hard 'no' she gave Fareeha left them distant and closed off, especially when the knight raised her voice and demanded to know why. Angela had yelled back something cruel that she quite frankly didn't care to remember and stormed off.

The blonde placed her head in one hand and rubbed her forehead with a deep sigh. “Fareeha...” She began, unsure herself where she was going with it.

“Never-mind.” Her voice was clipped and she found sudden interest in watching her soup boil. “So how goes the search?”

Angela moved to rest her chin in her hand and sighed as she recalled the information she gathered. “The archer is moving north. No true reason, perhaps just wandering. The gunslinger and the soldier are traveling together trying to track down my servant and being quite unsuccessful.”

“The undead one or the monster?”

“Undead. The monster is locked away and in my safe keeping. The Reaper has managed to sever my control of him and I'm unsure where he is. I have a feeling I know where he may be but if I shall even go after him is another story for another day.”

Fareeha hummed in acknowledgment and lifted her spoon to stir again. “And the alchemist?”

The witch snorted. “Taken to the seas, searching for something. I swear that old hag knows I'm tracking her and is just trying to throw me off. But I'm curious now, I wonder what grotesqueness she hides beneath that mask.”

There was a pause, the only sound coming from the spoon scraping the bottom of the pot and the fire crackling lightly beneath it.

“So that's it then.” The knight spoke flatly, “One year since the battle and another is fixing to begin.”

Angela rolled her eyes and started, “Fareeha you know that I--”

“No.” The dark haired woman spun on her heel to face the witch, “I don't know. I really don't.”

She tossed the spoon into the pot and brushed her hair back with a nervous laugh, “I don't understand your obsession with that kingdom. What is so bad about that king and his people that you _have_ to watch them burn?”

Fareeha shrugged and folded her arms across her chest, “I just...” She pressed her lips together in thought before taking a quick breath and bursting out, “You could do so much more! Spend your time doing better things than plotting revenge on some random kingdom!”

“It's not 'some random kingdom'.” Angela said darkly.

“What makes it so fucking special?” The knight asked, gripping her arms tightly. “That time when you helped me track the naga terrorizing that village in the east, you admitted that it felt good to help! You like helping people, I know you do – so why don't you?”

The witch's fingernails dug into the wood of the table as she hissed through her teeth. “What have _people_ ever done for me?”

The tiny flames of the candles were growing larger by the second as rage bubbled deep in Angela's stomach. “What good has helping people ever brought me? Public shame? Beatings? Solitude? Humans are a disgustingly greedy race that are only out for themselves! I provided my assistance because _you_ asked me to--”

“ _Me?_ So I'm different from 'people'? From 'humans'?” Fareeha laughed again, hands shifting to her hips as she stared at the blonde incredulously. “What makes me so different? I'm greedy! I'm selfish! I'm only out for myself – why do you tolerate _me_ , then?”

Angela could feel her palms heat, anger and magic rushing through the center of her being as she slammed her fist on the table and stood. “Because I care about you, _verdammt!_ ”

The candles spouted thick flames that nearly reached the ceiling, the knight's only reaction to squint at the intense illumination.

The witch shook as she yelled, balling her fists to contain the magic that was itching to leave them. “You are different from every other human out there! You're good, you're nice! You put up with me and the insanity that I bring! I am not good or nice, I'm a _witch!_ But you--”

The candles were suddenly snuffed out, all traces of animosity gone as Angela spoke. The magic that flowed through her came to a unexpected halt and left her feeling cold all over.

Her chest was heaving and there were suddenly tears in her eyes, a sob breaking and lowering her voice to a whisper. “B-but you treat me like...like I'm a human. A greedy, gluttonous human. And you aren't afraid of me. You've never been-”

Fareeha stepped forward and took Angela's face in her hands, “I'm always afraid.” Her dark umber eyes were full of emotion as she spoke softly, “I'm afraid I'm going to lose you. That I'll come to this decaying cottage one day and find myself alone.”

The witch sniffled and brought her own hands to the knight's waist to pull her closer, warm lips pressing against her forehead.

“I have lost everything.” Fareeha whispered against her flesh, “I can't lose you too. That's why I want to stay here. I want a life with you. A simple one where we wake up together every morning and fall asleep together every night. Don't you want that?”

“I do.” Angela's voice was hoarse as she stared into the knight's eyes, “But it's not that simple. I-I can't...condemn you to _me._ You deserve--”

Fingers gently brushed blonde hair behind the witch's ears as Fareeha cut her off. “I deserve to be able to love you and not worry about you every waking moment. And you deserve to be loved unconditionally for being _Angela_ , not a witch.”

Angela was done talking.

Their kiss was slow and gentle, so unlike the ones they usually shared. It seemed no matter how tightly they grasped each other they weren't close enough. They weren't racing to get to the bed or out of their clothes for once, content to just hold each other close and feel the warmth between them.

When they did make it to the bed their movements remained slow and languid. Tears were wiped away with gentle kisses and light touches as they moved together, trying to avoid breaking apart for too long.

It was strange to feel such intense emotions together. There was no doubt that both had experience strong passion during sex, but the heat they created was more sentimental than frenzied.

If Angela were to put a word to their actions this time, it would be lovemaking.

Satisfied, sweaty, and sleepy, Fareeha tucked herself into Angela's side and pulled a thick fur over their nude forms. They lay twined together, slightly breathless but quiet as they watched sunlight shine through the broken shutters of a window above them.

Angela let her eyes slide shut and curled into the knight's warmth only to have her move away. Blue eyes opened to watch the dark haired woman sit up, staring at the soft fur blanket through her bangs.

The witch wet her lips and started to open her mouth when Fareeha softly murmured, “I'll stay if I'm what you choose.”

Angela's stomach dropped at her words, panic rising to her chest rapidly and her mind racing.

She didn't want Fareeha to leave, gods she _couldn't_ have Fareeha leave.

The knight meant too much, made her feel too much. A person that never shrank away from her magic or her touch was something more precious than all the riches in the land. Fareeha didn't fade away or push forward too much, she met Angela somewhere in the middle where it was perfect.

The perfect match to the very essence of the witch, Fareeha was calm where she was a raging storm, humble where Angela was loud, just were the witch was unethical.

It was obvious what Fareeha wanted. She made herself clear, finding the exact spell in the book Angela let her read through on the rare occasion. When first presented, the witch was surprised that the woman could read the ancient language. More surprising was the seriousness in her voice when she spoke of the soul-binding spell.

_"To bind ones soul to another eternally is a hefty request and shouldn't be taken lightly." Angela said with uncertainty. She glanced over the spell again and felt an uncomfortable itch beneath her skin._

_Fareeha found great interest in polishing her sword and refused to look away as she mumbled, "It's not like I haven't thought about it. I just want to...forget it."_

_The blonde scoffed and closed her book, "Just want to what? Finish your sentence; I want to know what it is you wish."_

_"I wish to not lose you."_

_Her motions stopped and the sword was set aside. The knight took the witch's hands in her own and stared into her eyes as she spoke. "I wish to know if you feel the same way I do. If you...care for me."_

_Angela laughed nervously and let her bangs hide her view, the uncomfortable feeling spreading rapidly. "Of course I care for you, why else would I let you bed me so often?"_

_"I'm not trying to be funny, Angela." Fareeha's face was tight and she asked again, slowly, "Do you care for me like I care for you?"_

_Throat suddenly shut and mouth dry, the witch couldn't bring herself to meet the dark haired woman's gaze any longer._  

Her answer was clear, but she couldn't bring herself to say the words. Doubt stole her voice then and now, irrational fears that were made rational over and over again filling her head.

_A witch should be alone, it is better that way. No one to hurt, no one to hurt you. Fight through the pain and loneliness, scream and curse the world that's always hated you and don't show weakness._

Angela stole a quick glance at the woman beside her, suddenly afraid that she'd vanish into thin air. The dark haired woman stayed bent over the fur, running her fingers through it quietly, waiting.

Emotion swelled in the witch's chest, negating the fear as she watched the knight with a private tenderness.

Her hand took the knight's and she sat up to meet her, pulling her into a deep kiss. Their hands slid past each other and grasped the other's wrist. Angela pressed their foreheads together and whispered, “ _Obligari animos amor aeternus. Vita simul, ultra usque in sempiternum._ ”

From the center of her hand grew a painful sting, like hot metal slowly drawing a line down her fingers and around the back of her palm. Fareeha winced and whimpered in pain, bringing her other hand up to grip Angela's cheek while her other squeezed tightly at the sensation.

The two watched as a a bright light moved around their hands, carving into their flesh an ancient language made of pure magic. The light slowly began fading and took the pain with it, leaving behind a heavy sting throughout their arms as they released each other.

Fareeha lifted her hand to the sunlight, admiring the winding pattern that spiraled into her palm and traveled up her last three fingers. Angela held hers up as well, enchantments spiraling into the back of her hand and wrapping around her thumb, forefinger, and middle finger.

Dark fingers wrapped around pale and the knight brought their hands down to kiss the witch's. They stared deeply into each others eyes and Fareeha smiled with complete adoration.

“If I say it now, will you still scoff and roll your eyes?”

“Perhaps. I suppose I owe it to you at this point, all things considered. A shame though, I was hoping to have you beg for it.”

Fareeha's smile became a grin as she kissed the blonde, breathing against her lips, “You...are the single most infuriating, self-centered, narcissistic woman I have ever had the displeasure of meeting.”

Angela smirked in return and kissed her quick. “I suppose that's close enough to an 'I love you'.”

“Perhaps.” The knight rose from the bed and groaned loudly, “I hate to say it, but I think I may have burned the soup.”

The witch flicked a finger towards the pot to reveal the spoon slowly stirring itself around and smugly said, “Magic is very good for mundane tasks. I'd give it another few minutes.”

Fareeha laughed lightly and lay back down, taking Angela with her. “A year ago you would scold me for suggesting to use your magic for something so silly.”

Angela hummed. “Yes, how disgustingly domestic of me. Next I'll knit you a woolen scarf and begin making socks for our children.”

“Children?” Fareeha pressed her nose into Angela's neck and sighed deeply, “And I thought I was rushing things. Not that I'm complaining, but I doubt I'd make a very good mother.”

“Your soul is eternally bound to a witch and you're worried about being a horrible mother? You have your priorities in strange places, darling.”

Fareeha was quiet, strangely so, and when Angela moved to gaze at her the knight shifted away slightly. “I'm just...” She lightly traced her calloused fingers across the witch's collarbone as she spoke, “How can I go about being a mother when I didn't have one to show me? And I know, you were jesting about children but it...bothers me.”

The witch felt a twinge of regret at the words, pulling the knight closer and whispering into her thick hair. “Never-mind that, my sweet. Close your eyes and put your worries aside for another time.” The tension Fareeha held slowly melted and Angela began softly humming to erase it completely.

“I'm going to fall asleep, and then the soup _will_ burn.” The knight yawned deeply but made no attempts to remove herself.

Angela lazily flicked a finger towards the pot and the spoon froze in place, the crackling fire beneath it slowing until it went still. The licks of flames stayed where they were, still radiated heat, but stood petrified. “I'd say we have a few hours to snooze before the spell wears off.”

“You spoil me greatly.” Fareeha pressed a kiss into the blonde's shoulder, gradually moving to her neck to pepper more light pecks.

“I'd be careful if I were you, darling.” Angela smirked and looked down at her through her lashes, “Keep it up and we won't be sleeping at all.”

A kiss turned into a soft bite and the knight drew away to gaze into blue eyes mischievously. “You're insatiable.”

“Flattery will get you quite far, my noble knight. Now are we sleeping or are you getting between my thighs again?”

Fareeha laughed and Angela could feel it in deep in her chest. The sight of the woman, with her wide smile and twinkling eyes, made the witch's heart blossom with a tender warmth.

They lay entangled in each other, dozing off and waking on occasion to watch the other peacefully sleep. When they finally rose from the bed, Angela watched Fareeha dress with displeasure. 

The knight snickered at her expression and teased, "As much as I loath the thought, you should dress as well, lest you catch a cold or death."

Angela bit her bottom lip and raked her gaze over her lover's form hungrily, "Catch a cold or death or you in this bed with me again. I like the latter far more."

"Food first, _Habibi._  The bed will be here later." Fareeha said with a wide grin as she pulled the blonde from the bed and handed her her corset. Angela pushed it away and instead picked up the knight's thick woolen shirt, leaving her in only her thin chest bindings and trousers. "You're unfair and despicable." Fareeha said as she gave an overly dramatic shiver.

The witch pulled the wool down to her thighs and smirked impishly, "What did I say about flattery, _Schatz?_ If I must suffer through your delicious cooking then you must suffer through it as well."

They gradually made their way to the table unable to keep their hands to themselves, finally separating after a long and breathless kiss. Fareeha reached for her scabbard while Angela began ladling soup into their respective bowls. " _Ya Amar,_ " The knight called to her while drawing her sword, "watch this."

The sword's purple glow illuminated the knight's face brightly and with a deep breath and an intensely concentrated look it began spreading up her arm. Angela couldn't keep her jaw from going slack as the woman's veins began pulsing with magic, vibrant purple streaks racing up her arm and onto her face. Fareeha's eyes seemed to roll back as the light grew brighter, only the whites showing and letting off an eerie glow. What made the witch begin panicking was how her skin had begun to grey as the magic spread across her body and into her other arm.

Angela swiped her hand forward quickly and the sword was thrown across the room, the arcane that consumed Fareeha's body blinking out instantly. She gasped and dropped to one knee, clutching her chest and heavily breathing. "It...hurts when you take it away too fast..." She panted, rising to stand on shaking legs.

"What are you thinking?! You can't play around with magic like that, it can kill you or do worse! " The blonde dropped the spoon and rushed to the knight's side, fussing over her before hitting her on the shoulder, "Damn you, Fareeha, you scared me!"

The dark haired woman's eyes slowly returned and her skin coloured, sweat forming rapidly across her body as she sagged into Angela's hold. "Not playing with it...just noticed I could channel it if I tried hard enough. Thought you'd be proud that I was able to control your magic..."

"I can barely control my own magic sometimes." Angela grumbled as she helped Fareeha sit, still fussing over the woman and examining her closely. "Just...don't do it again? Please? It's not safe, magic like that. It can lead to an addiction or possession."

She left briefly to fill their cups with water from a large basin near the door and pressed one into the knight's hand. After draining it, Fareeha wiped her mouth and admitted, "I can't help it sometimes; It will just happen. It hurts when it forces itself, so I figured I wouldn't fight it. I didn't realize how dangerous it was and I'm sorry I worried you."

The witch placed a bowl of soup before the woman and returned to her own. "I'll see what I can do about it." She promised while blowing on the steaming bowl, "Perhaps I can enchant your armor to take the magic instead of your body. And don't apologize, _Liebe_ , you didn't know."

Fareeha lifted her bowl to her lips and drained nearly the whole thing in one go, wiping the remnants from her top lip and sighing deeply. "I'm glad I decided to show you. I...didn't expect you to agree to the spell and thought I'd have to convince you another way." She elaborated upon receiving a questioning look, "I want to prove to you that I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe."

Angela's eyes widened and she nearly choked on her soup upon realization. "Absolutely not!" She coughed out harshly, "You are not coming with me! This doesn't concern you, Fareeha!"

"It concerns me when you could die!" The knight argued, lowering her voice and placed her hands on the table, "I'm not saying I'm going to fight the whole kingdom by myself, I just want to help you!"

"And risk you getting caught up in battle and getting hurt? I think not!" The witch set her bowl down and rubbed her forehead, "This isn't up for discussion, you can't-"

"I can, and I will. You're right, this _isn't_ up for discussion because I already have a plan!" Fareeha said and held her hand up to silence the blonde. "You can't just waltz into the king's throne room, but if the captain of a royal guard, former or not, goes to the castle requesting the king's aid..."

Angela thought for a moment and slowly finished, "You can seek a private audience with the king and get him alone." She then narrowed her brows and darkly said, "And you think I'll let you have the glory of killing that bastard? _I_ will be the one to watch his blood stain that throne."

"And you will, because if I recall correctly it is very easy to keep a bird inside a sling. Send your monster to the front gates to distract the kingsmen and we can end this swiftly." Fareeha stopped the witch from speaking again and added, "But, I do have a request. Tell me why you need the King of Adlersbrunn dead."

The immediate silence that followed hung heavily between them as the witch moved her gaze to the window. The tree that stood outside it, with it's barren branches and abandoned birds nests, swayed with a hard wind and waved. The grey sky behind it made the tree look like it was made of pure darkness as opposed to birch. A storm was brewing in the distance.

"When I was young, my father told me I had to hide my 'gifts' away. I remember how my mother would smile and laugh when I'd make the leaves dance and twirl in the air, and I would always use magic around her because I loved making her happy." Angela's voice was quiet as she watched the clouds roll in and continued, "One day, the crown prince of the kingdom was coming to meet with the village councilmen about expanding our crop fields. He was suppose to meet in the village center, but decided to view the fields himself."

"My mother was laughing as I shaped the clouds in different animals, a rabbit or a deer, a dragon or blue bird. We didn't realize he was there until he cried out. 'A witch!' He yelled, 'There is a witch among you! Find and bring her to me!'." 

The tree outside shook violently with a strong gust and it's branches tapped on the glass pane. 

"My parents wouldn't give me up. No witch was brought to the prince, so he demanded all the women in the village be brought forward and burned until one confessed." Numbness spread through Angela's chest as she moved her glossy gaze from the window to the table. "All of them, every single one of them, were burned at the stake because of me. Because I was playing with the clouds. Wives, mothers, daughters...gone."

Fareeha softly spoke, "And the prince became the king..."

Angela sniffed and sank into herself as she nodded. "A week or so after, my father couldn't bear the heartache anymore. He lost the love of his life and was left with the monster that got her killed. I came home to find him hanging from the rafters. I burned the house and ran, afraid people would find out that I was the witch and that I killed my own father to hide the truth. I vowed to avenge them, avenge everyone who died because of me."

The knight stood and came to the witch, warm hands wiping her tears away and pulling her up into strong arms. Angela buried her face into the crook of Fareeha's neck and wept silently, letting her tears slide down the woman's warm flesh. In turn, Fareeha held the back of her head and whispered sweet words into her hair with a kiss between each one.

"I'm sorry, Angela." She whispered as she placed a kiss on the blonde's cheek, "I'm so sorry." 

As her tears slowed and she hiccuped with tense inhales, the witch backed away and looked into her lover's eyes, "I don't want to lose you either, Fareeha. That's why I didn't want to..." She trailed off before wiping her nose with the sleeve of her shirt and starting over, "I care too much about you to involve you in my madness. I'm afraid that if you get too close you'll be taken too."

"I'm not going anywhere." Fareeha promised, taking Angela's hands in her own. "I vow to always come back to you. In life and death, I am yours and you are mine. You have my word as a knight and your love. I will _never_ leave you."

They met in a tender kiss, energy and magic flushing through them as the vow was sealed. When they parted Angela brought a hand up to cup Fareeha's cheek, tracing her tattoo gently. The dark haired woman brought Angela's hand to her mouth to kiss the pad of her thumb and the binding spell upon it, eyes full of emotion as she did so.

The witch sighed at the sight and brought her down for another kiss, this time with more passion.

"I love you." Angela said against her lips.

Fareeha broke the kiss to grin stupidly at the blonde, "I know we're having a moment, but can we take just a moment to acknowledge that you're the first one to say it this time? How did I ever end up so lucky to hear those words repeated back to me?"

With a playful nip to the earlobe the witch whispered in her ear, "If you're going to ruin our sweet moment by being an ass, I'm going to ruin your morning by making you watch instead of participate."

"Have mercy." Fareeha giggled and went in for another kiss. Angela ducked out of the way and spun on her heel to bound to the bed. Along the way her woolen shirt came off and was tossed back to the knight. "I would like to scold you for not finishing the soup I made you, but I'm not in the mood for it anymore either." The woman said lowly, unable to keep her dark eyes from the blonde's naked form.

Angela lay across the bed and cocked a brow at the knight. "Are you just going to stand there or are you going to prove that you're willing to be my paladin and _assist_ me?"

Losing what little clothing she wore as she strode to the bed, Fareeha lay atop the blonde and seized her lips in a rooted kiss. Angela couldn't restrain the rich moan that bubbled in her throat at the sensation and instinctively took a handful of thick hair in her hand. The knight laughed into the kiss and tugged at the witch's lower lip in response, freeing the moan into the open air.

“A bird becomes a woman, a woman becomes a witch,” Fareeha was still chuckling as she pulled away and brushed against Angela's nose, “a witch becomes my savior, and my savior becomes my love.”

The witch met the knight in a softer kiss, both smiling all the while.

“What a disgustingly romantic series of events for such a dreary morning."

 


	3. Kiss Good-Bye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She gained a far away look in her eyes as she quietly said, “You learn that there's no point in shedding tears on the dead when death is all you've ever known.”

Rain tapped lightly on battered armor, breaths were made visible in swirling puffs of vapor, and the saddle beneath Angela had long since caused a deep soreness in her ass she knew would stay for days. A week's worth of riding and sleeping on the freezing ground had better be made up tonight otherwise there would be hell to pay.

A quick peck to her cheek from Fareeha was enough to sooth her for the moment, however.

The witch was truly very thankful for her knight's occasional peppering of sweet words and gentle touches. While internally scolding the both of them for the distractions, they were gladly welcomed considering what was about to happen.

Adlersbrunn was on the horizon.

The thought alone was enough to send a rush of adrenaline through Angela's veins and fury to her chest. After so many years, _finally_ she would have her revenge. The king would die choking on his own blood and, with luck, the kingdom would fall apart and cease to ever be again.

She could feel the magic inside her flaring harshly, burning through the center of her limbs to accumulate in her palms. She wanted nothing more then to take off into the air and begin the battle now, why she ever agreed to taking things slow was--

“ _Ya Amar_ ,” Fareeha whispered in her ear from behind her, “relax.”

The witch instantly melted against the woman and released a deep sigh. With a deep frown she pulled the hood of her cloak down and craned her neck to look back at the dark-haired woman.

The knight always looked impressive in her armor, but what she wore now wasn't her usual pristine steel. Every piece had been scratched to shit and dented, blood and dirt smeared across it and every other primary plate was missing to expose similarly worn chain mail beneath.

“You look like death.” Angela said with an upturned nose.

“You look like the loveliest woman in the world.” Fareeha said back with a grin that only grew with the blonde's blush. With a flick of her wrists, Horus huffed and sped up his pace to a steady trot.

The path was littered with dead leaves that were steadily growing frost, glazing the ground in graceful patterns. It was only a matter of time before the light drizzle that spat on them turned to sleet and then to snow; Angela was seriously beginning to reconsider her choice of outfit.

The dress itself was quite comfortable – sans the damned corset of course – but it didn't leave much to the imagination and in turn failed to keep any semblance of warmth. But there were more pressing issues to put ahead of clothing choice, and if she felt like being so petty she could blame Fareeha for her choice of skimpy attire.

A smirk formed on her lips and Angela snorted to herself, _Wh_ _en do I not feel like being petty?_

And besides, her cloak and her knight were plenty to keep her warm. As if to convince herself further, the witch reclined further in her love's arms and nuzzled her face into the woman's neck. She could feel Fareeha jump from the cold nose rubbing across her skin and she slyly asked, “Don't you want to warm me up, darling?”

Her cloak hood was suddenly flicked back to hide her face and Fareeha chuckled at the huff that followed. “More than anything. But I feel it best to save that for later. That and...”

“You humans are disgusting.”

Angela rolled her eyes and glanced to the side and to the creature that rode beside them. The half-dragon's glowing eyes never strayed from the path ahead but her wings would twitch and flick at the rain and in annoyance.

The Summoner had stumbled upon the witch in search of sustenance in the form of souls that Angela had happily supplied – for a price of course. The poor, desperate creature had accepted the terms of a deal so willingly that the witch was certain she'd found a new loyal servant. Now that the time had come to repay the witch, she proved to be a very withdrawn and stuck-up ally at best.

Behind her and her terrified horse, bound at the wrists with thick chains and heavy straps of enchanted leather, The Monster lumbered with labored breath. It's sunken eyes stared at the ground it shook with each step and when it would receive the bailed water from the serpent it whimpered and shrank into itself.

The witch turned away from the sight, unable to stop her stomach from rolling. Ever since Fareeha had pointed out how pitiful and depressed the monster looked she couldn't unsee it. It looked like a kicked dog, hurt and looking desperately for it's owner who lay buried and rotted through.

Damn the knight and her heart of gold for making Angela pity an unholy abomination. And damn her for her genius plan and her willingness to follow the witch to the depths of hell. Damn her for making Angela feel so weak and so afraid.

The subdued adrenaline shifted into intense dread and the witch wet her lips to bark out, “Stop! I've changed my mind; you will go no further, knight!”

At the command Horus halted and hooved at the dirt. At any other time the fact that the beast was actually obeying Angela would have made her giddier than she'd ever admit, but anxiety had consumed her every thought.

“Ride ahead,” Fareeha addressed their companion, “we'll be along.”

With a snort The Summoner passed them and continued on her way, The Monster glancing up at the witch for a moment before directing it's attention back to the ground and stumbling forward. Fareeha dismounted and held her arms out to Angela who begrudgingly accepted the help.

Instead of being lowered to the ground, the blonde found herself being hoisted high in the air and swiftly spun. As quickly as she was twirled she was standing on her feet again with arms around her middle and armor pressed into her back.

Normally she would be completely for such over the top displays of affection, but the tension that possessed her body didn't allow a shred of comfort. Noticing that their companions were out of sight and ear-shot, Angela tried to pull away from the embrace with an agitated sigh, “Fareeha...”

“ _Relax._ ” Her cloak hood was lowered again and the knight nosed the back of her head lovingly while saying, “Just listen to me and put your mind at ease.”

Angela knew she wasn't getting away and ceased her struggling despite the carping in her head. They stood together in the freezing cold and watched the already purple sky darken further.

It was getting late. They shouldn't be stopping when they were so close to Adlersbrunn. It wouldn't be long now, perhaps a few more hours if they stopped lazing about. There was no time to dawdle.

“Picture our cottage and how run-down it is.” Fareeha murmured into her ear as she swayed them gently from side to side. “Now imagine it with a new roof. No more having to worry about rain or snow; no more leaks.”

The witch released a long sigh as she conjured the image in her mind, closing her eyes and relaxing further into her lover's arms. She fully resigned herself to the daydream and asked, “What about re-bricking the chimney?”

“It'll be the second thing I do right after fixing the roof. No more birds getting trapped or chipped rock falling into our food. And maybe after the chimney we can add more rooms onto the house itself.”

“A room for all your tools and weapons.” Angela hummed in delight, “A proper place to rest your armor. A room for you to stink up with that awful polish.”

Fareeha laughed and pressed a kiss to the blonde's temple, “And a room for all your 'important ingredients' that you scold me for touching. I'll even build another fireplace in there for you so you don't get cold.”

“You're too kind to me,” The witch whispered while turning her head to lightly peck Fareeha on the lips, “thank you. I needed that.”

They stayed like that for several minutes, watching as snowflakes began lazily drifting around them and sticking to the ground. When a chill brought forth a shiver in Angela, the knight tucked her further into the embrace and found her hands to rub heat into.

Angela tugged Fareeha's gloves off and entwined their fingers, viewing the winding script etched into their skin. The sight alone warmed her heart and made her eager to return home.

She chuckled to herself at the thought, not quite sure if the humor was her longing to return to the shitty cottage or that she actually had a home.

“I can't wait for these thoughts to be real and not fantasy. A new beginning, just the two of us.”

Fareeha nodded along and squeezed Angela gently. “Just the _three_ of us.” She corrected, dissolving into a giggle that made the blonde grin like an idiot.

For all of her previous reservations about children, the knight had quickly warmed up to the idea of a family. They spoke at length about the how, Angela confident in her abilities enough to suggest creating a new spell to meet their needs.

“No backing out of it, darling.” The witch said as she turned to wrap her arms around Fareeha's neck. “I've spent far too much time on this to let it sit in some old book for years. You're entirely certain?”

The knight rested their foreheads together and replied with conviction, “I've never been more sure. I want that new beginning as much as you do.”

“How I ever managed to secure the trust and love of the captain of a royal guard is beyond me.” Angela chuckled and added with a pointed look, “Surely committing regicide is against some code of honor yet you have no qualms about it. Are you hiding behind your affections what you truly believe?”

Fareeha pursed her lips and stood a little straighter, “You always choose to ignore the fact that I willingly abandoned that life years ago. I left for good reason. I have the strength to lead an army into battle but not the conviction to see them home safe. A won fight with dead men is far better than a lost fight with living men in my eyes.”

The witch scoffed. “I can agree to that sentiment, quite honestly.”

“But as you mentioned, honor is the very essence of being a knight. I cannot call myself a champion of the people while not caring about the very people I've sworn to protect.”

She gained a far away look in her eyes as she quietly said, “You learn that there's no point in shedding tears on the dead when death is all you've ever known.”

Yet another sentiment the witch could agree with. With a quick peck on the lips, Angela sweetly told her, “Well, I think you're the most honorable knight I've ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

Another peck.

“And the smartest.”

Another.

“And the most beautiful.”

The distant look in her lover's dark eyes remained and the witch freed one hand to caress her cheek in a soothing motion. All at once, Fareeha's eyes focused and she gripped Angela's face gently, “I want you to promise me something. No magic. Just a promise between you and I right here, right now.”

Angela narrowed her brows slightly at this but waited for Fareeha to choose her words and elaborate.

“If one us were to fall tonight...the other will go on. Everything we just said, the cottage, a family, make it real no matter what. No matter the heartache or the pain, we'll move onward and just...live.”

Emotion constricted Angela's throat at the thought and she rapidly blinked away tears. “We'll live.” She assured, “I won't let us die.” Brown eyes stared into blue and she forced herself to nod anyway and say, “I promise.”

All of the previous anxiety and worry came flooding back to the witch as soon as the words left her lips. With a quick breath and a long kiss she soberly stated, “I love you, Fareeha.”

“I know.” The knight granted her another passionate kiss before curling a strand of blonde hair around a finger. After a few beats of silence, Fareeha trailed her hand down Angela's cheek and neck to pull her hood up again.

All at once the comfort faded and the tension returned and so with it slid away Fareeha and Angela. In their places now stood Pharah, Bringer of Justice and The Witch of The Wilds.

The thought of how easily the change was made the witch's stomach burn harshly and her obvious discomfort didn't go unnoticed. The knight guided her by the neck back to her lips and kissed her quick, emphasizing that the raw emotions transcended with their mental shift.

“No more of this.” The witch said with a light push back. She was thankful for the reminder but didn't want to be blinded by it, not tonight.

The knight pulled away with a playful smile on her face. “I only wanted to grant you a kiss good-bye to ensure that I may then be rewarded properly once the night is over, my lady.”

The witch rolled her eyes and turned to start back towards the horse while tossing over her shoulder, “Your greed will get the better of you, noble knight.”

“Gods, I hope so.”

The smile then turned into an arrogant smirk. “Shall we slay a king?”

 

 

In the short seconds it took for their bodies to warp together and vanish into the ethereal red light it became very apparent that something was wrong.

She couldn't ponder what it was through the pain that ripped through her body, the only true indication coming from Fareeha's stiff hold on her. Despite the agony and despite the dread, the satisfaction of knowing the battle was won remained at the forefront of her mind.

The witch won.

As expected, the lord of the castle went down putting up a valiant fight. Angela had to give him credit for lasting as long as he did against her and even applauded the one blow he landed on her. That damned hammer had done a number on her and caused a deep and excruciating throb throughout her torso.

It hadn't been her intention to take the direct hit to the chest but she had been rightfully distracted by the knight's cry of pain. A second's glance to watch the armored woman take an alchemical potion to the flank cost the witch the ability to easily move and breathe.

That damned Alchemist had reared her cloaked head and would have probably cost the witch her success if not for Fareeha. A sword against a rifle wasn't an even match in the slightest but proved too easy for the knight.

But something was wrong.

The battle had ended when Angela forced the king's chest to violently compress inwards and then blow out his back. The mountainous man fell to the ground with the Alchemist's cry of a name Angela wasn't familiar with and soon the witch found herself on the ground as well.

Blood stained her hands as she held warm and convulsing entrails that had begun to exit her body. The hammer's spikes hadn't been accounted for and had torn large, gaping holes in her side.

Fareeha was beside her in seconds, eyes covered by her helmet as she scooped the blonde into her arms and lifted her up. Something about the woman's stiff movement and lack of vocal concern put Angela off but she said nothing as she activated the dark crystal The Summoner gave them.

The hole that swallowed them took her breath away and now, as they were transported out of the castle, Angela allowed the worry to take over.

They hit the ground hard, rolling across snowy grass and coming to a quick stop. The witch gasped for air and whimpered at the wound that bled heavily into her hand. The arms that were wrapped around her didn't move, didn't tighten or go slack.

“F-Fareeha...?” Angela whispered, her vision spinning as she tried to sit up. The silence increased the panic rising within her chest and she forced the dark haired woman to roll into her back.

Each movement caused an indescribable pain but the witch grit her teeth and sat back, drenched fingers slipping over the latches and buckles to release the knight's head from her helmet. As it was carefully slid off and tossed away, Angela searched her lover's face and felt her body go cold.

Blank, slate white eyes stared at nothing. A dull pulse of purple ran through the now pronounced veins around the empty eyes, grey slowly spreading across tanned skin.

Angela gasped in disbelief, trying to grip the woman's face with her slick fingers. Smeared blood marred the emotionless face and the witch shook from a new kind of pain.

“No. No, no, _no!_ Faree--” A sob ripped through her body as she desperately tried to rouse the knight, trying to muster up enough magic to do something, _anything_.

She didn't care that she was bleeding out, that her steaming guts were slowly sliding free, or that figures were growing near them. All of her magic was sent rushing through the palms of her hands and accumulated into a vibrant green light as Angela pushed it forward and into the woman beneath her.

Panic had completely taken over.

There was no reason as to why she was forcing her magic upon Fareeha in this way, it wasn't something she could heal from the inside or outside. But the thought of not doing anything, of not trying anything only made terror worse.

_How had this happened?_

The lack of a glove on Fareeha's right hand answered this.

_Why would she continue fighting knowing what would happen?_

The ancient scrawl on said hand was the answer.

Shame filled Angela's chest at the sight before her. Shame and unfathomable anger.

The rapid spells that burst from her mouth didn't make any sense as she scrambled back into action. A spell for freezing a man in place wouldn't help, a charm to make inanimate objects move was useless, a curse that caused a thirst for human blood was idiotic.

There was nothing and yet she persisted.

They were found by The Summoner and two unknown persons soon after.

One of the new figures had muttered something in a dead language as they cast a glowing orb upon Angela, an unwanted calm slowly consuming her. The wound on her side began to slowly heal, the guts that had been resting among the snow slinking back inside and into place.

“So, you are the Witch of The Wilds.” The creature stated simply before motioning to their companion, “We were summoned to this kingdom to kill you, but I find it much wiser to align with the obvious victor. Material riches mean nothing. Magic...however--”

The Summoner waved him off and scoffed, “This hellish creature and his servant followed me from the battle. I can attest to his willingness to cooperate with us as he turned on the other two protecting the door.” She cocked a brow and noted with delayed interest, “You are injured and dying.”

Angela yelled something unintelligible at them and scrambled more magic into her hands. With every blink her eyes stuck together and she released a frustrated growl at the drowsiness and it's cause. The the orb oscillating her head was stitching her wounds but draining her of all her energy.

“Do not fight the embrace.”

The creature moved further into the witch's line of sight and revealed itself to be hovering off the ground. The dark purple tentacles that emerged from it's hood swept back in forth in a hypnotic motion as it spoke, “Your wounds mean death, but I shall keep you breathing as a thank you-”

“Fuck off!” The witch spat viciously, her arms trembling harshly and threatening to give out.

“-for your spell. 'The Spark of Life' is a wondrous, magnificent gift to those who can control it.” It's head cocked to the side slightly and it remarked, “But it would appear that you are incapable of controlling yourself. Impressive still, you were able to remove all traces of free will from this human--”

Grinding her teeth together to the point of pain, Angela lifted herself onto her knees and whipped her head up to unleash an inhuman screech, “ _FUCK OFF!_ ”

As the words left her lips, the ground beneath her shattered like glass, a web of thick cracks and rifts jarring the land. Magic, thick and heady, erupted from her and sent The Summoner and the other figure vaulting backwards. Only the floating creature remained beside her, seemingly unaffected.

It only made the witch angrier, at the fact that it was still standing or that she was about to fall unconscious or that Fareeha was gone wasn't clear but--

Fareeha was _gone._

Her breathing hitched and the screech became a sorrowful wail. Fat, hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she lowered her shaking body to rest atop the woman beneath her. All traces of magic quickly vanished and left Angela's body feeling cold.

Sleep tugged her trembling body into it's senseless embrace and as her body grew heavy and numb, as anguished thoughts raced through her fading mind, a somber realization came to her.

Their cottage would never be repaired.

 

 

The fire was out and the cold had crept in.

Even beneath a motley of thick furs and quilts the chill persisted and sank past skin and settled in bones.

The air was losing the crispness of the cold and beginning to stale, the smells of wasted food and general filth permeating throughout the cottage. The small windows had been covered by thin sheets and let a low light into the otherwise dark house, the faint glimmer of the last remaining embers from the fireplace twinkling among the ashes.

Another deep chill seized her body and Angela brought her legs up to her chest in an attempt to stave it off further.

The urge to hide from the cool in the body laying beside her was great, but she knew better.

The fire was out and would remain out. The cold had crept in and would continue to consume the hovel.

A much more sensible, rational part of Angela told her to get up and just light the damn fire. It truly would be the easiest thing to do, but even knowing this she couldn't remove herself from the bed.

Zenyatta and Genji would be along soon, they could light the damn fire.

They had done everything else for her, surely making a fire wouldn't be asking too much of them.

The strange, Omnic-like creature and his student wouldn't leave her alone, constantly appearing with news of the world and food she never ate. Zenyatta would attach one of his glowing eyes to her and utter in his dead language for hours before going through a practiced series of questions that were never answered.

“How are you feel today, Witch?”

A long, tired blink would answer for her.

“Do you know how much time has passed since the fall of Adlersbrunn?”

Another blink.

“Has your magic returned?”

The last question should have infuriated Angela but instead spread an unearthly hollowness throughout her chest.

She wished she could snark at him and his stupid inquiries, but felt nothing less than grateful to have someone speak to fill the silence and care for her. If she were the same as before, the sole thought of the creature caring about her in the slightest would have been spat on.

It wasn't coming from a place of kindness anyway; he was using her for his own gain. What exactly he wanted was never quite clear but the creature's persistence about her magic spoke enough. Unlucky, considering all of it was gone.

Nothing was ever said to either of them. Not when Zenyatta explained how his magic worked or when Genji pulled her from the bed to fix her tea.

There were some days that Zenyatta would completely ignore the witch and instead direct his attention to his student with much similar questions. On very rare occasions he would ask that the man's mask and silk robe be removed in order to poke and prod at the thick scars and ragged stitches that covered his flesh.

Genji reminded Angela very much of Junkenstein's Monster in the fact that his body looked to be sown together using whatever was laying around. He had an awkward gait about him, like he didn't understand how his body was suppose to move or work.

Nevertheless, the faceless man had been nothing short of gentle with her and despite being nearly mute always offered curt pleasantries.

He once sat beside the bed, braiding her hair with careful if not clumsy fingers and rasped, “To know yourself is to be at peace.”

Angela had mulled over this for quite some time and settled on believing it was something his master told him. It sounded like something Zenyatta would say and would be a fitting phrase for the silent swordsman.

The monk had explained to her the details of Genji's 'rebirth' and how it was her spell that brought about it. “Death holds no meaning when The Spark of Life burns strongly. A human no longer, but not quite a specter either.”

His piercing eyes had stared past the witch and to the body beside her as he spoke, “Not unlike your own creation. However, Genji is capable of cognizance on his own whereas your... _Fareeha_ lies dormant.”

It made Angela flinch both in the memory and at the memory.

Her grip on the pillow cradling her head slowly waned and was brought away from the fading warmth of the bed to drift cautiously backwards. Angela's fingers lightly brushed against another's and gently took hold of them.

It took a great deal of courage and effort for her to then roll to her other side and now hold the hand with both of hers. Where there were once tears and heavy sobs at the sight now stayed a profound sorrow in her chest.

Fareeha lay on her back, hands resting atop her stomach and expression peaceful. Angela would lie to herself and think that the knight was just sleeping, dreaming of endless summer. The ashen tone of her skin and the dark purple of her veins prevented the foolish thoughts from blinding the witch from the truth.

With a light squeeze to her hand, Angela scooted closer to the knight and rested her head on her shoulder. There wasn't any peace of body or mind to the nestling anymore. The body was as frigid as death.

By all accounts, it was.

A lump formed in Angela's throat but she swallowed it back down.

It would have been easier to leave. To bid the knight farewell after slaying the direwolf and enjoy the lovely night alone.

It would have been easier to push her away. To remain silent about the feelings that consumed her very soul and then not choose to share that same soul. To have hidden behind scowls and cocky smirks and not speak of the misery her life was.

It would have been easier to just move on. From both Adlersbrunn and Fareeha. Forgetting Adlersbrunn would mean Fareeha would still be here and forgetting Fareeha would mean...

She couldn't think about it further, angry at herself for even considering any of it. She made a promise.

_A promise you're breaking._

A deeper regret filled Angela's chest and choked her again.

How could she possibly keep such a promise now? How could she possibly live on now after everything?

The witch got what she wanted after all. The king was slain. The kingdom had crumbled. The dead had been avenged.

But at the end of the day, the witch had stopped truly being 'The Witch' a year ago when she was saved by a pure-hearted knight. And that purity had infected her melancholy heart, transforming her back into the girl she thought had died years ago. Perhaps the truer thought was that she should have died long ago, hell, die _now_ \--

_WHAM!_

The loud crash made her raise her head slightly and watch the door, expecting it to open and reveal the monk and swordsman.

When nothing came and her head rested once again on Fareeha's shoulder, a second, very similar sound happened. After a pause, another grating sound beat followed quickly by another. One after another, like rocks being thrown against metal, the cacophony grew louder and faster.

As it came to a fever pitch, Angela felt a familiar bubbling in her stomach.

She let it happen for a minute longer before throwing the blankets back and reaching her feet. She stumbled slightly, lightheaded from the quickness of up-righting herself and suddenly very aware of the emptiness in her belly. No thought was given further on her current state of health or even dress as the blonde tugged the worn woolen tunic further down her thighs.

The wood floor creaked as her bare feet stomped across it, not even considering the shoes or cloak that lay next to the door as it was viciously yanked open. The freeze from the floor couldn't compare to the freeze of the earth as the blonde slammed the door shut and started through the snow to the source of the sound.

The stable gate was wide open, thick snowflakes raining through it and glowing in low lantern light. Despite the gate's state, Horus stood just inside the entrance and watched Angela stalk closer. When she stood just a few feet away, he reached out and took hold of the metal gate with his mouth and tugged it harshly back.

The crash, much louder this time, was not followed by another but instead Angela's own furious voice.

“Can you _shut up_?!” She barked, throwing her arms up and carrying on, “Oh cry me a fucking river! Why the hell do you have to be so goddamn annoying and useless! Why are you even still here?! Leave already you piss-headed fuck!”

Horus whinnied loudly in response and flicked his ears irritably, stomping a foot and cursing right back at Angela. The blonde scoffed and pointed out across the barren meadow while saying, “Yes I'm serious you bastard! Just leave already!”

The horse stood a little taller and lowered his head slightly, brown eyes boring into Angela's as he stated clearly.

_Not without her._

And she laughed.

Loud and brashly, Angela threw her head back and cackled at the horse and his pathetic loyalty, going so far as to tell him so between breaths. She was shaking harshly now, from frigidity or the rage or both uncertain.

“You should have been born a mutt, what with how damn devoted you are!” A cruel smile twisted her lips as she held her arms out and yelled, “What about this don't you understand?! Are you honestly so stupid that I have to spell it out for you, _mein Gott_!”

The last remaining strides were taken to put Angela directly before the horse, their vapored breaths forming one large cloud. Taking one last thick gulp of icy air, the blonde roared so loudly her throat tore.

“ _She's_ _gone_! She's _gone_ and she is _not_ coming back!” Her lower lip trembled and all of the ferocity in her voice was gone as she croaked, “Y-you might as well move on. Just leave and...and find something else. There isn't a point in staying.”

Horus slowly blinked at her, closing his eyes and stretching his neck forward. When his head gently bumped Angela's she let herself break.

Her arms wrapped around his thick neck and she hid her face in his smooth fur, wailing loudly and shaking heavily.

She stood in the snow, half naked and sobbing like a child, hugging the horse until he meekly nudged her off. Angela wrapped her arms around herself and watched the horse turn to walk further into the stable, glancing at her once and snorting lightly.

The stable was surprisingly warmer than the cottage, a strange relaxation washing over Angela as she followed Horus into one of the stalls. The straw that covered the floor was soft underfoot and the odor tamer than expected.

Horus craned his neck upward and Angela followed his gaze, her eyes falling on a overturned bag of grain in the loft above. It looked to have leaked a majority of it's contents but what was left in the thatch bag wouldn't fall because of how it sat.

“You're hungry...” Angela whispered in realization, shame for yelling at him filling her chest as she started towards a questionably stable ladder. While it groaned and creaked as she climbed, it held long enough for her to retrieve the grain and get back down safely.

As soon as the food hit the trough, Horus descended upon it and loudly munched. His tail flicked against Angela's side in a grateful gesture and she gave him a pat on the flank. “I'm sorry, Horus. I didn't think...” With a sigh she settled among the straw, “I haven't been thinking at all, actually.”

She sat and watched the horse eat with drooping eyes, exhaustion from her melt down catching up. She wasn't aware she had drifted off until she jolted awake at something touching her, Horus having ate his fill and now resting beside her.

His nose prodded her hair and, despite her weak protest, he licked up the side of her head in one broad motion. A weak smile formed on her lips and Angela scooted to rest her back against the horse's side, leaning against him and tucking her limbs into herself.

Cuddled against the horse with straw stuck in her hair is where she found herself in the morning. The surprise at actually sleeping for a full night was quickly outweighed by the remembrance of the cold cottage.

Angela cursed to herself as she jogged out of the stable, startling Horus on her way. The cottage door opened and she winced at the freeze that came with it, stumbling over her rapidly numbing feet to get to the fireplace.

_Thank the gods for Genji._ She thought as she tossed a small pile of wood into the ashes, staring at it and blanking. An unsure palm was extended to the wood and her brows narrowed in concentration.

“Come on!” The blonde huffed to herself, “It's not much! Just a damn spark, come on!”

When the cold ceased to fade, Angela gave in and reached for the flint and striker. It was a struggle to work the damn tool but after countless attempts she finally succeeded in lighting the fire.

She didn't linger by it long, now rushing to the bed and sitting to check on the still woman who remained.

Nothing changed, nothing had moved. The body was still cold. Angela was about to succumb back into her withdrawn state until she noticed something odd.

There were snowflakes in Fareeha's lashes.

They looked almost like tears that had frozen, some resting on her cheeks and covering the strong veins. Stepping back to view the oddity, there were actually snowflakes everywhere. In Fareeha's hair and golden adornments, laying across her hands and chest, covering the bed and furs.

Angela gaped at the sight, watching another fat wafer lazily drift from the ceiling. Her eyes were drawn up to a worn hole in the roof and she stared dumbly at it.

Her eyes grew hot suddenly and she forced her lips into a thin line, pushing the emotion crawling up her throat back down. “I'm so sorry.” She breathed, leaning over her lover and pressing a long kiss to her forehead.

“I'm so sorry, Fareeha. I'm afraid...and I don't know where to begin.” She repeated thickly while kissing her again.

Angela caressed Fareeha's cold cheek, brushing the snow from her face and forcing a smile, “I don't think I can without you. But I promised...and I can't deny you anything. Not after everything.”

A gentle thumb cleared the woman's eyelashes and the blonde sat back to look at the hole in the roof again. She mulled over it for a long pause before glancing across the cabin and to the rugged table. Set purposefully facing her, the large book of spells stared back at her and drew her in.

The grimoire felt heavy in her hands as she flipped through its pages, glancing at a carefully placed silk strip and drawn immediately to it. The page it marked had been scrawled all over in her own illegible handwriting and it's contents made her heart sink.

The spell called for ingredients she had in bulk or could easily find just outside the meadow. It could be made before the sun set and completed before the dawn broke. Nevertheless, the witch closed the book.

She made a promise. The cottage would be fixed _first_ , then the three of them--

_Two. Just the two of us._

A small string that rested on the table was snatched and her hair was quickly pulled back into a practiced up-do. A pair of thick trousers were found on the floor, stale and unwashed but good for keeping warmth. They sagged past her hips and dragged the ground but were quickly tucked into woolen socks and heavy boots.

The cloak by the door billowed as it was fastened around her neck and Angela cast a thoughtful glance back at Fareeha. She returned to retrieve one last thing and give the knight a kiss good-bye before exiting the warming cottage.

Horus still stood in the stable, watching her approach with a curious look in his eyes. The witch stood in the same spot as before and fiddled with her cloak clasp for a moment before giving it a satisfied tug.

Golden bulb now securely tied around her neck, the witch gave her mount a determined look and said, “We have work to do.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent the holidays alone again. I couldn't bring myself to do anything of worth or value, so I forced myself to write and this is it. I know I said I wouldn't continue this story and if I'm honest I didn't even want to post this. But I haven't been here in a while and feel too guilty to not post. There will be a follow up. I'm unsure of when it will be posted. I'm sorry.


	4. To Begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The Witch of the Wilds is dead and gone. You have nothing to fear.”
> 
> “See, I knew it.” The young man said with a smile, “You are a hero.”

_The void seemed endless._

_Nothing began or ended, nothing shone or dimmed, nothing lived or died._

_There was no moving in the void._

_If she were sprawled out flat on her back or curled into herself wasn't clear. It didn't feel like she lay upon anything, perhaps just floating among the darkness. In fact, she couldn't even feel her own flesh. There was only an unearthly numbness._

_There was no sound in the void._

_There was whitenoise, constantly filling her ears and ringing in her head. It always felt like she was going mad, perhaps she was. But time didn't seem to pass in the void, so on the precipice of insanity she remained._

_Only one voice spoke in the void._

_“I'm so sorry Fareeha.”_

_It made her struggle and fight against invisible binds. It made her try and fight through the void despite her unfeeling body._

_“I'm afraid...and I don't know where to begin. I don't think I can without you.”_

_The void would only suck her down further, the lethargy and madness pulling her in deeper and deeper._

_“But I promised.”_

_She wanted to scream back, 'I promised too!' but the darkness choked her every time she opened her mouth._

_It hurt, deep and rooted in her chest. It felt like she was burning from the inside out, smoldering but never broiled completely through. Much like the growing lunacy, it held her right at the edge of unbearable._

_But she fought anyway._

_Despite the pain, despite the lack of feeling and despite the delirium, she fought._

_She made a promise to never leave. She made a promise to always be there. She made a promise to repair the roof, to build a spare room, to live._

_So Fareeha fought it._

_Fareeha would listen to Angela speak to her, one-sided conversations cluing her to the fact that a great deal of time was passing but not to her and let it fuel her will to free herself._

_So much time had passed. So much had happened. And she was stuck sleeping inside a chrysalis._

_Winter came and went, new companions were made, Horus had come to accept Angela as his new rider, Angela fixed the roof on her own, Angela was trying to move onward and live._

_When the voice of her love stopped speaking to her, Fareeha feared the worst._

_It only seemed like a few seconds to her, but those few seconds were enough to cause her struggling to cease. The endless void swallowed her further in those few seconds and her descent into madness was nearing completion._

_Then there was a sound, not Angela's voice but just as clear._

Bu-bump. Bu-bump. Bu-bump. Bu-bump.

_“I hope you can hear it.” Angela whispered, bringing Fareeha back._

_'I can.' She tried to say back only to drown further._

_“I hope you can hear it and know what it is. And I hope someday you'll get to hear it for yourself.”_

_'I will, I promise.' The suffocation pulled her under and she strained to hear the steady beating. 'I will find my way back to you. Wait for me, my love. I'll see you soon.'_

Bu-bump. Bu-bump. Bu-bump. Bu-bump. Bu-bump. Bu--

 

 

A piercing squeal echoed throughout the empty village and was shortly followed by a earth-moving _FWUMP_.

Slowly and uncertainly, doors began opening and heads began poking out to try and see what was happening. A few brave souls immediately jumped out with weapons at the ready and charged the now dead boar.

The horse huffed at the giant creature in disgust and moved to stand away from it and it's leaking brain. The crown of it's head had been crush in, the flesh and blood mixing into a downright lovely shade of pink and red that was beginning to stain the dirt.

The sight brought bile to the back of the rider's throat but she quickly swallowed it back down. A hand was stretched out to the boar and a spell was quietly uttered, “ _Liber esto anima vestra._ ”

A tiny, wriggling soul broke free of the thick hide and twirled off into the sky. It went unnoticed by the villagers who now stood around the carcass and echoed praises to their savior.

“It's been terrorizing our fields for weeks!”

“You are heaven sent!”

“--thank you! How can we repay you? I have gold to spare or--”

“Our guardian angel!”

The dark blue cloak billowed slightly as the horse trotted further from the boar and came to a stop before the villagers. “I ask for no payment, only that you direct me to your sick and wounded!” She called, sinking back further into her hood when people crowded and craned for a closer look.

Among them, a young man with thickly braided hair inched forward and shrank away from the glares he would occasionally receive. He eventually came to a halt and nervously fiddled with the straps to his suspenders but kept a careful eye on the witch.

A much older, gruffer man raised his sword and gathered everyone's attention with a loud yell. Once they had mostly quieted he pointed his weapon to the rider and asked, “And why should we do that?! She may have saved us from that demon boar, but she's a witch!”

Murmurs rippled throughout the crowd and he continued venomously, “Does no one remember what that messenger girl told us? A _witch_ toppled an entire kingdom in _one_ night! What do you think one could do to a tiny village like ours!”

“I have no intentions of attacking you or your village. I'm merely here to he--”

“And who says we needed your help?!” The man continued, more people clutching tighter to their weapons, “We can take care of our own without your cursed magic!”

The younger man stepped closer and the realization that washed over his face made the cloaked rider's heart leap to her throat. He cut off the older man with a much louder cry of surprise and turned heads immediately.

Without a second thought he pushed through the crowd and raced to the witch's side. She quietly observed the crutches secured around his forearms and began to pity him when she had it promptly thrown right back at her.

Despite the crutches and way his legs would lag behind the rest of him, he moved with amazing ease and grace. Surprising her the most, the young man dug his crutches into the ground and _vaulted_ atop the dead boar with perfect balance.

“She _is_ here to help!” He cried out, “I've heard stories from other villages about her! The White Witch, Mercy!”

Immediately more people began to speak up in agreement and the weapons were lowered again, the old man who had yelled deflating and backing away into the crowd. All at once they were cheering and chanting, the young man standing on the boar turning to give the witch a wide grin.

“I can take you to our sick house and gather up all the injured. This way, Mercy!” He said and carefully stepped off the carcass. The crowd parted for both him and the horse, taking her deeper into the village and straight to a long cabin with a group of children playing outside it's doors.

The children greeted the young man with delightful hollers and quieted upon seeing Mercy. They all stood aside as she dismounted gracefully and started towards the door, giving the closest girl a pat on the head as she passed.

The awe on their faces brought a laugh to her throat but it was throttled by a sharp pain in her feet. The young man noticed her waiver and asked with a voice full of concern, “Are you okay, Mercy?”

“Fine.” She said with a grimace. He didn't seem convinced but nodded anyway, nudging the door open with a crutch and motioning her forward.

Inside the large cabin rested a number of cots that lined the walls, many occupied by one or sometimes two people. “Take me to those who are the weakest.” Mercy asked her guide, silently observing the ill and cycling through their obvious ailments.

It was a slow process, going to row after row of the sick or dying and sitting with them until they could stand again. As expected, many burst into tears and insisted upon some form of payment that she always declined.

The only thing worse than the gratitude being thrown at her was the worsening pain in her feet and now back. After being bent over a cot for so long she rubbed at the soreness in her lower back and made the mental note to not ride for so long anymore.

Thankfully, she was halfway through the cabin when a familiar fatigue set in and made her head spin. From the dizziness birthed nausea and when coupled with her other aches the witch found herself ready to call it a day.

Despite it, she forced herself onward and finished healing the sick just in time for all the injured to have been gathered.

“I won't be able to heal them to the same extent.” She explained to the young man, “I'm afraid I am nearly at my limit.”

He instantly called for the most injured to come forward to be healed first and began directing those with minor scrapes and bruises away.

At one point, Mercy approached an old woman sitting by herself and pointed to the thick bandages that wrapped her head and face. The woman said nothing and waved her off. When she turned to walk away, the witch could feel the old woman's eyes on her back.

Every time she would say that she would heal one last person, the next looked too poorly to be left for later. It was a vicious cycle that never ended no matter where the witch went, one that would always leave her dead tired and completely spent. As if her body was testing her patience and willpower, an uncomfortable pressure began building in her lower stomach that only grew worse as time passed.

The young man guiding her and acting as a translator for some of the villagers kept a close eye on her dragging and continuously reminded her of what she had said. “There aren't many left now.” Mercy reasoned, trying to hide the wince that came with a sharp pain in her lower back.

He never seemed convinced. Nevertheless, he would bite his tongue and move on.

By the time the lame had been restored the sun had begun to sink and the witch's energy had nearly all been spent.

The sweet spring air was welcomed after breathing nothing but filth and sickness for so long, the beginnings of twilight casting the village into a tranquility that could be felt from just viewing. Mercy couldn't contain her laughter when she caught sight of her horse, now sporting a braided mane and tail complete with flowers and ribbons.

Children practically hung off the chestnut coloured horse, three sitting on it's back to add more flowers and many more circled around with offerings of various fruits. The horse looked to be having the time of it's life from all the attention and whinnied loudly to stir more excitement.

As soon as the witch approached, both the children and the horse deflated. The children all backed away shyly, but not before bestowing parting pets and kisses to the horse. The creature kicked at the dirt in a similarly shy fashion and sniffed at her in what seemed to be embarrassment.

“You're more trouble than you're worth.” Mercy chuckled, stepping forward and nearly toppling to the ground. The horse moved just in time to save her from the fall, nudging her upright and releasing a low bray of worry.

The young man was beside her as well and before he could start in she admitted weakly, “Perhaps I could accept your kindness and requests of repayment. At least for tonight.”

The small wooden house she was led to had already been prepared in advance.

A bed had been neatly made up with soft furs and piles of feathered pillows, placed at the back of the single room and resting under a large window. A large table of dark oak was covered with platters and dishes of various foods, many of the meats and breads still lightly steaming.

A desk made of similar dark oak sat tucked away in the corner and held various little trinkets left as gifts ranging from pouches of gold to simple notes of thanks. In the opposite corner and concealed by a heavy curtain rested a chamber pot as well as a collection of various bottled oils and soaps.

Ornate and neatly cleaned, a hearth claimed a large section of the house. It wouldn't see use due to the heat, but it drew the witch in immensely.

“I can take your horse to the stables and make sure he's taken care of.” The young man offered after helping transfer her bags inside.

Mercy waved her hand at the horse and said, “That won't be necessary; he will stay with me.”

The confusion on his face became shock and then delight as a chestnut coloured dog bounded past him and into the house. It turned and looked at him through the corners of it's eyes, pointed ears moving as well as it watched the young man carefully.

“That's amazing...” He whispered before shaking himself out of his awe and extending his hand, “Oh man, I never even introduced myself! I'm Lúcio, if you need anything just say the word and I'm here!”

“A pleasure to meet you, Lúcio.” Mercy took his hand and shook it firmly before stepping into the house and adding, “I extend the same kindness to you as well.” A last glance at him brought a rush of guilt as she spoke, “Gods damn me, I nearly forgot about you! Your legs--”

Lúcio shook his head and gave her a tight smile. “I appreciate the gesture and thought, but...I'm okay, really.”

His dark eyes betrayed his words and Mercy lightly touched his shoulder. “You are a bad liar, but I won't press. If you would like to retract that or speak your mind, my door is open. Don't be a stranger, Lúcio.”

He nodded and bid her good night. As soon as the door closed all of the grace and tact in her went out the window.

In a flurry of curses, she rushed across the house and to the chamber pot in the corner, all the while struggling with her cloak and skirts.

The dog had taken this time to jump onto one of the chairs at the table and begin salivating over the impressive spread of food. It was about to sink its teeth into a delicious smelling link of sausages when a shoe came flying.

“No!” Angela warned darkly, adjusting herself and moving to wash up. “You do _not_ get first pick, you got it last time!”

Horus whined loudly and flattened his ears, watching the blonde through huge eyes. She stared back and bit the inside of her cheek at the sight, close to breaking but remembering all the times he used the damned face to get his way and shaking her head.

The dark blue cloak was tossed on the bed and Angela reached behind herself to fumble with the strings of her corset. The longer she struggled the more frustration built and the more frustration the harder her head pounded. Finally, the damned thing had been loosened enough to hang comfortably.

It wasn't until the whole ordeal was over that she noticed a large mirror resting against the wall that could have aided her.

It made her pause, taking in her appearance. The hard lines around her eyes stood out with her sullen expression, accented nicely with the dark staining the underside of her eyes. White-blonde hair seemed more white now then blonde and fell past her shoulders in tangles.

The dress she wore had definitely seen better days, the once pristine white off the shoulder sleeves now slightly off-colour from wear. It looked better the further down it went, the white fading into yellow and then into orange. Well, looked better sans the skirts that had been torn and muddied from riding.

At least the corset was new, the cloth hiding an uncomfortable amount of sweat while providing amble support and comfort.

Angela scoffed at that last thought and pulled it off completely, tossing it with the cloak and relaxing at the freedom her body now had. It didn't matter how loose she wore it these days, the tenderness and sore aches in her chest and back were here to stay.

She wished she'd never cast the spell.

_No. Don't think that. You can't regret this; you made a promise._

Staring back at herself in the mirror, taking in her disheveled self and repeating that last thought made her eyes heat and her stomach churn.

Focus shifted to recalling how easy life was when spent alone, how peaceful it was to not be stuck with such pathetic thoughts and worries. How great it was to just be 'The Witch'.

But glaring at the shell of a woman before her brought nothing but a burning sense of unadulterated loathing.

It all accumulated into a heaving panic in her chest and she placed a hand above her breast to feel her heart pound. Slow, deep breaths were taken to try and quell the sudden fear, to try and remember everything that made the pain worthwhile.

In a moment of utter weakness, she closed her eyes and projected what little magic she had left outwards. Warmth enveloped her, as if someone held her from behind and Angela melted into the feeling. Her hands wandered to rest atop the phantom arms and for a moment it was as if they were there.

But she stopped herself and released a long sigh, arms dropping back to her sides. Instantly the phantom embrace was gone and she was left feeling cold. Horus whined from behind her and drew her away from the mirror and the somber thoughts it brought.

Angela eyed the table of food and didn't take the time to check her options, grasping a buttery roll and selecting a neatly cut corner of cheese. Horus watched her pick her meal unable to contain himself, practically vibrating and slobbering on his side of the table.

A bright orange fruit was added to Angela's growing pile and, in a moment of complete pettiness, the sausage links. Horus openly gaped at her and she laughed at the uncomfortably human expression, “I should have left you a damn horse. I dare say I've spoiled you worse than Fareeha ever did.”

The dog huffed and took her banter as permission to get his own meal, settling on a cooked hen. They ate in silence, or as silent as their rabid eating could possibly be. Horus scarfed down his food faster than Angela and left his chair to sniff around the house.

After giving it a once-over, he stood at Angela's side and plopped his head in her lap. She continued eating with one hand but dropped the other to scratch the top of his head slowly, gradually moving to rub the velvety tips of his ears.

A flick of the finger lifted two thin books from one of her bags and to the table, the first's pages rustling as it turned on its own. A quill joined the blank page and Angela sized up the hearth for a few moments before starting her rough sketch.

Once satisfied with her vague drawing and schematics, the first book was pushed aside and the second pulled forward. Finding where she left off, Angela took a mouthful of fruit and began reading the fading script to herself.

She finished eating around the same time she finished the book, closing it with an annoyed huff and rising to her feet.

“Yet another useless waste of my time!” Horus followed her from the table to the bed and sat watching her grumble while she undressed. “I swear, Zenyatta enjoys watching me run like a headless chicken! He knows how eager I am for information and thinks it's funny to squash my hope like a goddamn bug!”

Angela gave Horus a serious look and said, “I think we should kill him honestly. Yes!” She clapped her hands, “Kill Zenyatta and string him up like a damn scarecrow!”

The dog gave her a dry look and she tapped her chin in thought, “You're right, we need to convince Genji to become my underling first. It would be easy; just offer him sweets and he'll do whatever you want! Oh, you know what would be rich? Having _Genji_ kill Zenyatta! Imagine the look on his smug face then!”

With a snort, the dog placed his front paws on the bed and stared down the muzzle at the blonde. He blinked twice, long and slow, the overly familiar gesture taking all traces of forced humor from her face.

_Don't give up. Keep fighting._

“I know!” She reflexively spat, biting her bottom lip and softly saying, “It's not easy, thinking you've found an answer only to discover nothing. I'm just so _tired_. Tired of searching, tired of traveling, tired of...pretending.”

She pushed Horus down and rose to her feet clad only in a thin slip, pacing the floor with a hand on her forehead. Thick tears blurred her vision as she hoarsely spoke, more to herself then her companion.

“What's even the fucking point anymore? I know there isn't anything I or anyone can do to fix this mess – a mess that _I_ made. Gods, and the way these people look at me like I'm...” Angela stopped and gripped the roots of her hair tightly, “Why am I such a failure?”

A tug on her slip drew her attention down and to the deep brown eyes that watched her carefully. The dog reached up and gave her hand a gentle lick of encouragement before he trotted to the door with an expectant look.

The witch was grateful of how far they had come since being stuck together and opened the door. He released a low chuff and told her to take her time and that he'd be around when she was ready.

“Thank you, Horus.” Angela whispered as he disappeared into the night. She returned to the bed and sat heavily, an all too familiar weight to her chest growing.

The discarded cloak was brought into her lap and she rubbed her thumb over the golden adornment tied to it's clasp in a soothing motion. The smooth metal warmed against her flesh and Angela let her eyes close, imagining the soft hair that used to accompany it.

It was times like these that she wished she hadn't worn the cloak so often. The first month or so of traveling it still smelled of earthy musk and spiced oils, but the comforting scents had since been replaced with her own.

It was embarrassing, how much she would cling to it during that time. But clutching it now, straining to try and catch even the slightest hint of Fareeha only made Angela choke on her sobs harder.

When the emotion passed and she sat staring at the wood floor, the blonde wiped her face with the back of her hand and berated herself.

There were more important things to think of. More important things to waste her energy on. The fact that the damn horse--dog-- _whatever the hell_ had this down to a routine spoke volumes.

_Damn hormones._

She sniffled and rummaged through her bags, producing a large glass bottle and popping it's stopper off. The light smelling balm was cool against her skin as she began rubbing it into her swollen ankles and up her thighs. It was nice to have something be both a necessity and a comfort.

The gentle massaging brought forth a relaxed sigh and Angela slowed her movement as a flush rose from her stomach to her chest. She tried to ignore the feeling and continued applying generous amounts of salve.

Her mind drifted as she massaged the balm into her skin, lolling around with half-hearted focus.

_I wonder if it'll get hotter the further south I travel. Further south is a small kingdom marked on Fareeha's map for having a good smithy. I wonder if I should request a weapon be made for me. But there are so many left back home. But none of those fit right in my hands._

Her eyes slid shut and she exhaled deeply again.

_Fareeha's hands were always so lovely to hold. So gentle and careful but so willing to indulge me when asked. Gods...she's as beautiful as she is handy. And in more ways than one._

Purposeful application gradually became light caresses and once she caught herself Angela forced her hands away to weigh her options.

_Damn hormones!_

She could continue and attempt for the umpteenth time at pleasuring herself, but all previous indulgences were either cut short by frustration or completely unsatisfying. She could stew in the arousal for the night and return to her books or just sleep it off, but again be frustrated and unsatisfied.

“ _Verdammt._ ” The witch growled, gripping the bottom of her slip tightly and debating if she was going to rip it off or not. There was no winning in this situation and she knew it, but maybe if she focused hard enough on her hands being _another's_ \--

The loud barking from outside jolted her forward and off the bed, heart racing at what Horus could have possibly gotten hold of. A serious of rushed shushes and chortles startled Angela further and she pulled the cloak over herself in time for an unsure set of knocks to rap on the door.

She turned to the door and had begun to ask who was knocking when a muffled voice cut her short.

“It's Lúcio...again. I, uh...I-I had a question.”

The apprehensive way he spoke filled Angela with dread. The worst possible outcomes immediately came to the forefront of her mind as she stiffly walked to the door.

  _He knows who you are. He's probably told the whole village. They're going to kill you unless you kill them first. Open the door, set the house on fire, grab the dog, run. If he hasn't told anyone, kill him before he does._

_Kill him._

She took the doorknob in hand and grimaced.

_I don't want to kill him._

The cloak was securely fastened to hide her from head to toe before the door creaked open only a sliver. Light spilled from the opening and cast a glow on Lúcio'a face, his expression extremely apologetic but innocuous.

“I'm real sorry to bother you, but I had to ask something.” He glanced around and cleared his throat before adding, “It's...not something I feel comfortable asking in public.”

Angela narrowed her brows but moved to let him in anyway. In her rush to shut the door she nearly closed it on Horus, who bounded in and took to viciously sniffing Lúcio over. “Knock it off, you ass!” She hissed, swatting him away.

Lúcio laughed and rocked slightly on his crutches while saying, “He's alright! Startled me pretty good though. I can see why you keep him around.”

“I keep him around to feel better about my intelligence and food consumption.” The blonde scoffed while motioning to the table. A wave of the hand sent the food gliding to the gift covered desk, the offerings sorting themselves into neat piles and stacks to make way.

Seated across from each other with only a carafe of water and two glasses between them, the witch anxiously waited to hear what the man had to say and hoped it wouldn't end in his untimely death.

He fiddled with his crutches and kept his eyes down, glancing up once before taking a deep breath through the nose. “Can magic be taken away? Like if someone was born with it, can they have it removed?”

“That...is not the question I was expecting.” Angela slowly admitted. On an exhale, she stretched her mind out and felt her magic collide with another, much weaker force. Her eyebrows lifted as she affirmed, “You were born with magic.”

“Yeah...” Lúcio trailed off. His elbows rested on the table and he pressed his knuckles into his eyes. “I don't want this, any of it. Magic was born from evil. It can't be anything less than evil.”

“You sound like you're repeating something that's been said to you over and over.” Angela noted, watching the young man shift uncomfortably in his seat.

She sighed and folded her hands in her lap while explaining, “Magic isn't a disease or illness that can be cured or erased. It's very much like life itself: it will find a way.”

“Your gifts are tied to you in every way. Consider them to be an extension of your soul, like a knight would consider their weapon to be an extension of their body. If you find that the connection is muddied your magic will fade.”

Angela clutched her cloak tightly and forced her voice to not tremble as she spoke, “I lost my ability to use magic for quite some time actually. But as I said, life finds a way. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I can't help you.”

“But you just said you lost yours for a while! What did you do to lose it?” Lúcio lowered his hands to the table as he pleaded, “Please Mercy, I'm begging you. I'll do _anything_ \--”

Angela balled her hands into fists and felt the anger in her rising. “No. There is nothing I can or will do. It's not something I can force--”

“Then just tell me how and _I'll_ do it! Whatever it is, just name your price!”

The fury rose higher in her chest and Angela grit her teeth. “Name a price, you say. Do anything, whatever it takes to get what you want? If you had any hint of an idea the danger in saying such things-- you don't know what you're asking, child.”

Lúcio sat forward while insisting, “You're right, I don't know what I'm asking! But I know I can trust you to help me!”

In her growing fit of rage, the witch yanked her hood off to reveal herself. Her palms were alight with the arcane, ready for the impending bloodshed. When it didn't come, when Lúcio's only reaction was to sit a little further back in his seat, the magic vanished.

“Do you know who I am?” She lowly asked.

His voice wavered as he answered, “You're Mercy. You're a witch and you help people.” When she didn't say anything he swallowed and continued, “You're kind. And generous and gentle. You're a real life guardian angel--”

“I'm not!” Angela spat, lowering her gaze to the table and letting the anger wash away. “I-I'm not who you think I am. If you knew who... _what_ I was a year ago...”

She chuckled humorlessly and touched the golden bulb around her neck, “Most days I don't even recognize me.”

He frowned and avoided her gaze again. After biting his bottom lip in concentration he eventually asked, “Mercy...are you happy?”

Angela raised her brows at the question but replied, “Yes, I suppose so.” The deeper frown that formed on his face prompted her to elaborate, albeit with uncertainty.

“I have gotten exactly what I wished for. My dream came true.”

The way the King of Adlersbrunn's body crumpled into itself had brought her nothing but elation.

“I suppose it doesn't matter what it costs when you achieve such a thing.”

The way Fareeha's body lay in their shared bed had brought her nothing but despair.

“Who couldn't be pleased with that? Happy is what happens when all your dreams come true, isn't it?”

Lúcio sniffed and wiped a tear from his eye. “I can feel what other people feel.” He quietly confessed, “And all I feel from you is so much sadness and sorrow. I never imagined someone could feel this...heartbreak.”

The witch turned her head away and sighed through her nose. “That feeling is why I can't help you. I lost my magic due to intense emotional distress. Heartbreak, as you said.”

“I spent a very long time doing absolutely nothing, just staring at walls and wishing for it all to end. I can't help you because I don't want you to have to experience that emptiness. It carves you into a _very_ different person.”

“I'm so sorry.”

After wiping her eyes Angela met Lúcio's own and asked, “What else can you do with your magic? Or rather, how much can you do?”

The young man turned his gaze to the platters of moved food and lamented, “Nothing as amazing as you. I can nudge a door open or snap my fingers to light a candle. Feel the emotions of others if I try hard enough.” He chuckled and added, “I can make the clouds into shapes. The kids really like it when I do that.”

A bittersweet smile grew on the witch's lips and she nodded along, “That's a great start, Lúcio. I remember playing with clouds too.”

“Oh! I, uh, can do a lot more when I play.” Lúcio said as he reached into his pocket and produced a thin flute of wood. He twirled the instrument in his fingers and admitted, “I mean I feel like I do more when I play. I've never noticed anything happening...”

Angela's smile grew and she rearranged herself to sit more comfortably while urging, “That's good too! It's very important that you feel the magic before you see it! Would you play me something?”

Lúcio nearly dropped his flute and sat a little straighter. He was sheepish as he spoke, “R-really? I'm not that good or anything--”

“Don't be so modest! Please, I insist. I promise you absolutely no judgment and if you're so afraid of sounding less than desirable I will happily show you just how awful I am. I once made a flock of geese flee from my singing.”

It made him laugh and Angela let herself snicker along with him. Once they quieted, Lúcio wet his lips and raised the flute.

He played softly, a gentle melody steadily filling the small house. From her feet, Horus lay down and happily huffed at the music while his tail lightly _thumped_ against her leg.

Angela felt herself relaxing as well, a comforting warmth washing over her as she listened to the soft flute. Her smile grew into a grin as she realized the pain in her feet and back were slowly fading and continued stupidly grinning for the rest of the song

When Lúcio lowered the flute from his lips and looked at Angela again she felt a strange giddiness in her chest.

“You're a healer, Lúcio.” She said with an unexpected giggle, “You're channeling your magic through music.” Her leg lifted slightly to view her ankles and she confirmed, “You soothed my smarting back and swollen ankles with just a few refrains.”

He blushed. “You don't have to exaggerate. I mean, I believed that first part, but c'mon. You don't get swollen ankles from riding a horse all day.”

Angela scoffed and reached forward to fill her glass with water, “You do when you're pregnant.”

Lúcio spluttered and his blush grew. He finally calmed himself enough to say in a rush, “That's-great-congratulations-I-had-no-idea-that's-amazing!”

“Easy there!” The blonde laughed and took a sip of her drink before saying, “I wasn't expecting you or anyone to notice. I've honestly been hoping no one does. Too much unwanted attention.”

“I getcha. I was pretty curious before but I guess that answers that.” He pointed to her hand and clarified, “That's a binding spell, right?”

Angela nodded and viewed the script bleakly. “It is. It garners quite a few looks and questions, but I could never hide this. It means too much to me to not proudly display. My heart and soul belong to a very noble and very compassionate knight.”

“If you're anything to go by, he must be great.”

Her eyes grew glossy and she longingly whispered, “She was the most wonderful person I've ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

Lúcio blushed again and rushed to correct himself, “I am _so_ sorry to assume! I just-- you and-- with a baby I-- and you said knight...I'm sorry. You don't hear of many female knights around here.”

“It's alright, I realize it's a strange thing to wrap your head around.”

Angela brought a hand under her cloak and rested it on her stomach, feeling of the sizable curve. Months of having to acclimate to the perpetual changes of her body never got easier and still felt utterly foreign.

“Magic is the short answer to it all. It doesn't have to be as evil as you've been told to think.” She paused and asked, “Why do you see magic as such an awful thing?”

Lúcio cut his eyes to the door and lowly spoke, “Because of them. After hearing about what happened to that kingdom everyone grew more hostile towards magic. That witch who killed the king represents the worst of magic and no one ever forgets the worst. So long as she's around--”

“She's not anymore.” Angela cut him off. Her hands curled into fists as she told him with confidence, “The Witch of the Wilds is dead and gone. You have nothing to fear.”

“See, I knew it.” The young man said with a smile, “You are a hero.”

The witch snorted and corrected him, “Not a hero. A wanderer, at best.”

“Why are you a wanderer?”

It caught her off guard. Memories flashed through her mind at the question, images of a glowing campfire and a purpling sky, the feeling of holding someone close and thinking it would be without any strings, a lovely night to be shared with a stranger who didn't seem so strange.

Angela couldn't help the sad smile that grew on her face as she repeated what Fareeha had told her.

“I wander to find a purpose, nothing more nothing less. I have lost everything – _everyone_ important to me. I search for an answer I fear doesn't exist.”

She added in a hushed voice, “I vowed to my love that I'd go on without her, but it's much harder to begin again after having such devotion in your life.”

He nodded along and she cleared her throat. “You know, many people believe that magic was actually a gift given from the Gods. From my experience, depending on how heavily you believe in higher powers tends to cause how accepting or not you are of it.”

The conversation that followed was much heavier than either probably wanted, Lúcio listening keenly to the witch describe not only her own opinions on magic but the various theories she had come across. On occasion, he would cut in and either ask a question or offer his own sentiments.

Despite the substantial subject matter, Angela would wait patiently and answer honestly every time.

The longer they spoke the easier it became until they had eventually drifted topics. Deep and philosophical debate about the birth and essence of magic devolved more mundane things such as the harsh winter and recipes for sweet bread.

Just how much Angela craved human interaction hadn't been realized until now. It was addicting to be able to speak and have it matter to someone.

It wasn't intentional, but the blonde had not only let slip Fareeha's name more than once but even her own. Even when she'd catch herself and try to quickly recover or distract from it, Lúcio would just grin wider and let it go.

Laughter and smiles replaced their former grim expressions. Lúcio always had a funny story or joke to tell and Angela was more than happy to listen. The way he would light up each time and at everything caused a tender feeling to bloom in the witch's heart. Upon realizing what it was, she covered up her tears with a laugh.

Lúcio gave her hope.

Their chatting lasted for hours and had eventually became them trying to speak through long yawns. No matter how many times they said that they should turn in for the night, 'one last thing' became at least four more lengthy discussions.

At one point he noticed her rough sketch of the hearth and viewed the fireplace with a hint of a smile as Angela explained her desire to recreate it for her own home.

“I know who made it.” Lúcio paused and sadly corrected himself, “ _Knew_ who made it. She was always so smart and crafty like that. She was different too. Not exactly like me, but always alone. We were never really close but I liked to pretend that we were friends.”

“What happened to her?”

“No one knows. There were whispers that a naga got her but I don't believe them. Satya would never go out on her own. I just hope she's okay, wherever she is.”

The carafe of water had been drained long ago, Horus had moved to the bed and fallen asleep ahead of Angela, the dark of night had long since crept in and various candles had been lit to try and stave it off, but they kept talking.

When they finally agreed it was far past time for them to sleep and moved to the door, Angela hesitated.

“Won't you let me heal you?” She asked.

Lúcio shifted on his crutches and glanced down at his legs before returning her gaze and shaking his head. “I think I wanna be the one to do it.” He then nodded and said with determination, “Yeah, I want it to be me. It may be a while, but if I keep practicing like you said then maybe someday...”

Angela hummed in acknowledgment and started to open the door for him before stopping midway and closing it again. She turned to face him head-on and, on a whim, pulled him into a hug.

The young man tensed slightly but slowly relaxed into the embrace, mindful that his crutches didn't dig into her as he reciprocated.

Emotion was rising in her throat as she struggled to find the right words. It felt awkward and like a mistake, but she had something she needed to say. There was so much she felt she absolutely _had_ to tell him.

Tell him to find a secluded and safe place to practice his magic, to hide it away as best he can, to stay far away from others, to not play with the clouds unless sure he were alone. Instruct him to never _ever_ even begin to consider looking to the darker side of magic for solutions, to leave the dead rotting and the living breathing.

But to say such things to him after seeing just how innocent and utterly _good_ he was wouldn't be fair. Not to him or his future.

It wasn't fair to her or her future.

And then it clicked. Angela let her head fill with what she would have given anything to hear when younger and let it all flow out gently.

“You're a good man, Lúcio. Never forget that. You are not evil, you are not cursed. You've been given a gift and only you can decide how you use it. It may feel like you're alone, but you're not and never will be. You _matter._ ”

She squeezed him carefully and sighed out, “Oh, what wonderful things you're going to do. I can only pray that I'll be there to see them. And who knows, maybe someday you can be the one called a guardian angel.”

The hold on her grew shaky and Lúcio gasped around a whimper, mumbling weepy 'thank you's and trying to wipe his face.

When he pulled away, he wiped the wet from his face and said, “You're gonna be a great mom, Mercy.”

“I hope so.” Angela replied with a sad smile.

They promised to speak again after the sun had risen and bid each other good night. Alone again, Angela made sure the door was properly locked before creating a light breeze to blow out all of the candles.

Fareeha's cloak was hung carefully on a bed post and Horus was nudged away from the center of the bed to make room. The dog immediately moved to curl atop her feet and Angela gave him a light scratch to the head while adjusting the sheets and furs.

The second her head hit the feathery pillows she knew she'd end up stealing one. They felt _godly_ under head and back. A satisfactory sleep was something she was ecstatic about since laying eye on the bed and so she wasn't surprised when it pulled her in immediately.

It didn't last long.

Angela was roused by a scuffling on the floor and the growls of an irate dog. She tried to blink the thickness of sleep from her eyes and had almost sat up when a sharp pain grew in her neck and drew her back into the pillows.

This tiredness was different, much heavier and very unnatural. If her body weren't already relaxed she would have realized just how eerie what just happened was and forced her eyes open. If her ears weren't slowly filling with cotton she would have realized that Horus was whimpering in pain and that the scuffling stopped.

The next time the witch opened her eyes, daylight was streaming through the windows.

Her entire being felt sluggish, both body and mind reacting far past what she intended. There was little to no strength and support in her back and neck to sit up, so Angela opted to instead roll onto her side.

When she tried to call to Horus, she discovered her mouth was extremely dry and her tongue heavily weighed down. Her eyes stuck together thickly as she tried again to sit up only to collapse further.

“Don't even bother.”

The voice sent ice straight through the center of Angela's being and she could only stare as a cloaked figure crouched down beside her. The mask that stared back at her, ever smiling, filled her with dread and the knowledge that she was going to die.

A needle containing a murky yellow liquid was raised and promptly injected into Angela's neck as The Alchemist darkly chuckled.

“I expected more from you, _Witch_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You thought it'd be the end of the story, but it's me, another goddamn cliffhanger!
> 
> Honestly though, when I started writing I kind of...didn't stop...? I have no idea how many more chapters there will be, but knowing the fact that I hate odd numbers hopefully two more to make it an even six? 
> 
> 'Get your shit together, Jheri!' 
> 
> Believe me, I know. But the past five months have been nothing but straight kicks to the c*nt among many other downright lovely things. I genuinely don't have a clue and I'm sorry for being an indecisive, reclusive asshole.


	5. To End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The teacup was raised again and the old woman took another sip from it without breaking eye contact with the witch.
> 
> “Atone for your sins, Witch of The Wilds."

“You know, I've been doing a lot of thinking--”

Boots loudly thumped against the wood floor.

“--since the attack on Adlersbrunn. Both of them.”

A chair was dragged across the room, creating a shrill noise.

“But the funny thing is, I can barely remember what it was I had thought of. What it was I wanted to say in this moment.”

The ghoulish mask leaned in to Angela's face, The Alchemist's voice slightly muffed by it but still clearly heard. “Because all I want right now is to watch you die a very slow, very painful, very well-deserved death.”

The witch couldn't move, paralyzed in the bed and only able to dart her eyes around in a panic. Her breathing had become erratic and an unpleasant burning sensation was traveling from her neck to her head.

The Alchemist was saying something else but Angela droned her out, trying desperately to even slightly move her fingers or toes. A painful twitch in her finger would have made her wince if she could feel her face.

The minuscule movement sparked a chain reaction. Control of her hand return but Angela held it still as an intense sting zipped through the center of her arm and ended right behind her forehead. Tears formed in her eyes from the pain but she blinked them away and tried to focus herself again.

The next source of the witch's attention went to the floor in search of Horus. She couldn't see much from her limited field of view, but her heart squeezed at a large blood smear on the wall behind The Alchemist.

Surely he was fine. He had to be.

She could heal him if he weren't, dozens of quick spells jumping to the forefront of her mind. It would be fine, everything would be fi--

_CRACK_

The harsh slap threw Angela's head to the side, feeling returning to her face in another intense shock of pain. Gloved fingers gripped her face and directed her attention back to the mask as The Alchemist growled, “Don't think I can't see those wheels turning! I would have killed you in your sleep if it weren't for my own morbid curiosity.”

The Alchemist sat back in her seat and folded her arms across her chest, staring at the witch in silence. Her head turned away to the floor and she commented, “I'm surprised that you keep a companion. Even more surprising that it's a breed commonly found in the east.”

“Seeing a _tesem_ like that is a rare sight. A shame it had to die because of you.”

All the air in Angela's lungs vanished.

She wanted to scream, to hurl fire in The Alchemist's face and char her body into ash. To run her through with a sword or force her innards to exit her body in a violent push of pure force. She wanted to roar at the woman and demand to know why she thought the damn dog had to be killed, if she realized just how important he was.

She wanted to _move_.

And in that moment, she did.

All at once, the witch's entire body ignited with the arcane and rose her to a sitting position. The Alchemist jumped from her seat in time to be flung backwards and slammed into the wall behind her, crumpling to the floor in a heap and sluggishly trying to stand again.

What The Alchemist had done to her wasn't clear, but every tiny motion sent a splitting pain to the blonde's head. The act of sitting up made her double over in a choked gasp, her shoulders shaking and her blood roaring.

Seeing the woman fall to the ground, Angela ignored the pain and scrambled to the floor. Her knees splattered blood further across the floor and her hands smeared it into the wood as she crawled to the center of the growing pool and to the dog that lie there.

Horus was watching her the whole time and let out a pitiful whine when Angela finally reached him.

He was breathing, but barely so. A thick knife pinned him to the floor where the inside of his hind leg connected with his body. A gash over his eye had been sealed shut with dried blood and looked to travel from the bridge of his nose up to the base of his ear. The skin on his flank looked like it had been melted off and the flesh had coloured to a deadened white.

Worst of all and the cause of all the blood, a gaping hole in the side of his stomach had long since leaked smelling fluid and organs. They twitched rapidly and on occasion would spurt more blood to the floor.

Angela placed her hands over the wound and mustered up all her magic to seal it. If she could replicate Zenyatta's healing spell and send his guts back into place, he'd be fine. But she didn't know the spell...how was she to possibly mimic something she had no clue about?

_Don't think about that. He's managed to hang on this long. You can do this. Focus._

“You're okay.” She whispered confidently, feeling the convulsing innards begin moving back inside.

Horus whimpered loudly and she shushed him only to be drowned out by another much louder cry. “You're okay!” Angela insisted.

Something was wrong.

His organs were slinking back inside but they were twisting into themselves and forming into a tangled wad of flesh. The wound was sealing it inside and out of sight but not fixed.

“Y-you're okay!” The witch gasped, flailing now as she realized that she was killing him.

The dog lifted off the ground, howling in agony and trying to get away. His struggling caused the knife to tear more into the meat of his leg.

Angela was openly weeping now as she tried to manipulate his organs apart to no avail. “Y-you're okay...” She sobbed.

It felt like a hot iron was touching her brain. Searing pain blinded her and she cried out with Horus, her body seizing suddenly and slumping over the dog. When she came to and moved a trembling hand to the dog's head she was surprised to feel him gently lick her fingers.

The comforting motion as followed by a weak huff, their eyes meeting through their haze and Horus making himself clear to her straining mind.

_It's alright._

Fat tears raced down Angela's cheeks and she shook her head, growing dizzier by the second. “It's not!” She slurred, “I can't--...not you too...I-I can't do this again, _verdammt_!”

Something small and flat was pressed into the back of the witch's head, the click of a switch revealing the object to be the barrel of a gun. The Alchemist threw what was left of her mask to the floor beside Horus but remained out of view, the mask having been smashed against the wall.

“I was going to take my time and ask you how you even managed to convince her-- but I've changed my mind! You're not even worth the time of day! You'll get exactly what you deserve and be put down like the worthless sow you are!”

Angela grit her teeth and pressed her head back further into the gun. “Go ahead!” She hoarsely spat, “You'll be doing me a favor!”

“Oh, I'm not doing this for you or even for me!” The Alchemist yelled, leaning down and growling in the witch's ear, “I'm doing this for Gabriel! For Reinhardt! And most importantly, I'm doing this for Fareeha!”

There was no thinking on Angela's part after that.

The pain in her head had reached a peak that seized her again as magic exited her body from every angle, heavy and powerful. The table and chairs were flung against the walls and shattered like glass, all of the gifts tossed around as if by an intense gust of wind, the windows blown out.

Angela's mouth was open in a silent screech, magic pouring out of her and rapidly destroying everything it could reach. The Alchemist had been thrown into the wall again and now lay gasping for air, Horus had begun convulsing on the floor and foaming at the mouth, the wood of the floor was rotting and decaying.

It didn't burn like it previously would have, instead creating a sharp chill deep within Angela's chest that was rapidly spreading throughout. After consuming her being, the frost had begun to spread outside of her body. The blood beneath her was crystallizing and the air was becoming frigid.

The decaying, freezing house was warping in the witch's vision, spinning and twisting into itself. The distortion increased the ache in her head and made her eyes burn, or perhaps they were burning from the heady magic in the air.

Through it all, a single voice called out to her.

“ _\--gela! Please! You have to stop!_ ”

_Fareeha?_

There was too much magic and nowhere for it to go. She couldn't stop herself even if she tried. There was nothing that could end this chaos, it was going to consume the world.

But the arms that held her tightly felt so loving, so comforting and so sure.

“ _You're better than this, you can't forget! And you aren't alone! I'm right here, Angela!_ ”

Slowly, by degrees, the power that had spilled out began to wane until everything went still.

Angela sat motionless and unresponsive to the arms that still held her and to the person squeezing her from behind.

To be held like this after so long brought fresh tears to her eyes. The phantom embrace she would invoke upon herself couldn't compare to the warmth of another person. This embrace didn't have an ounce of selfishness to it.

Lightheaded and exhausted from the outburst, Angela relaxed into the arms and breathed out uncertainly, “Fareeha...?”

“She's not here right now,” Lúcio murmured back, “but don't worry. I've got you until she can be. You're okay, Ange—Mercy.”

Snowflakes were gently falling and sticking to her cold skin, catching in her hair and eyelashes. Her labored breathing was visible in a cloud of vapor and as she slowly realized what happened the witch's lips quivered.

Angela hung her head and stared down at Horus, unable to keep herself from wailing pitifully at his broken body. Lúcio hugged her tighter as she cried and eventually began humming. The soft tune was lulling Angela back into a drowsy relaxation and she fought against it harshly.

Lúcio leaned her back in his arms to rest against his chest and shushed her lightly. “It's okay, you're okay. I've got you now, don't worry. Relax and let me try to help; I'm a healer, remember?”

He cleared his throat and began singing a slow and gentle melody, his voice immediately calming Angela further and pulling her closer to sleep. She lay against him and watched through half lidded eyes as Horus twitched back to alertness.

The knife was pulled out carefully and the wound gradually sealed itself, Lúcio never stopping his song as he scooted them closer to the dog. Horus wiggled his head into Angela's lap and nosed at her limp hand in reassurance.

Eyelids heavy and snot dribbling down her face, the witch swallowed and mumbled weakly, “I hate you so fucking much, you bastard.”

Horus nipped at her fingers lightly and replied back, _Glad you're okay too._

 

 

Why Angela had even agreed to this was beyond her.

Damn Lúcio and his calming aura and convincing words. And damn herself for being groggy enough to willingly accept to a 'peaceful conversation'.

The Alchemist sat across from the witch with her arms folded tightly across her chest, cloak and light armor removed. She remained in dark neatly kept trousers and a loosely fit, tucked in blouse. On occasion she would reach up and fiddle with her headscarf or eyepatch, the motions drawing Angela's eyes back to her face.

It was unsettling, making the blonde's stomach lurch and her chest ache.

She looked so much like Fareeha that it actually hurt.

Angela shifted uncomfortably from her seat against the headboard of the bed, tugging the sheets up to further hide the bloodstains on her slip and her pudging stomach. The last thing she wanted this woman to know was the existence of this child.

Lúcio sat between them both and was nervously wiping his hands on his pants, watching both carefully and trying to best assess the situation.

“So...lets just talk, okay?” He started carefully, “No magic, no potions, no attempting murder. Sound good?”

Neither responded, choosing instead to glare past the young man and at each other.

“ _Aaaa~_ lrighty then.”

Lúcio cleared his throat and turned to The Alchemist with a hand extended in presentation. “This is Ana. She's, uh, she's Fareeha's mom. We had a pretty nice conversation about tea while you were asleep.”

“Ana, this is...” He trailed off and raised his eyebrows to the witch who waved him on with a sigh, “...Angela. She's a witch known as Mercy and she's Fareeha's--”

“Business associate.” Angela cut him off. He made a face at her but nodded along anyway and repeated it back.

“You obviously both have a lot you wanna talk about, so who wants to start?”

Before Lúcio even closed his mouth Ana was leaning forward in her seat and snarling, “Do you have any idea _what_ she is? You call her something as absurd as ' _Mercy'?_ Do you not realize the destruction she's brought?”

Angela narrowed her brows and lowly said, “Lets keep the boy out of this, shall we--”

“We shall not! I won't let another innocent life get tangled in the web of evil you leave behind! Tell him the truth; tell him who you are, Witch!”

The blonde stiffened and avoided Lúcio's gaze in favor of stroking the dog curled in her lap. The silence that hung in the room was nearing suffocating and Angela tensed her muscles in preparation of whatever was about to happen.

Suddenly, Ana sat back in her seat and began speaking with a tight lip.

“This _monster_ has killed more people than helped. She has created a total of three unholy demons, two of which were used in the genocide and regicide of a kingdom and one that is forced to hide away in self-isolation. She's done nothing but ruin and sully the very existence of life itself for her own greed.”

Lúcio raised his hands up and stuttered out, “W-wait a sec--”

Ana ignored him and continued, “She is the very essence of evil and isn't capable of anything less than evil. Whatever she's told you has been a lie to manipulate you into doing her dirty work for her; she's nothing but a vindictive bitch.”

There was a sudden twinge in her mind and Angela couldn't stop her reflexive snark even if she tried. “Oh please, you left out very important details like how I'm _petty_ and a _genius_ and great at making Fareeha _scream_ my name.”

The words left her lips and she knew immediately how horrendously she fucked up.

“You _what_.”

Ana stood suddenly and growled through clenched teeth, “You even think about speaking my daughters name again and I'll cut your tongue out of your skull!”

“Okay okay okay!” Lúcio stood as well and held his hands out as if to separate them, “We've got a lot to unload here! Let's just take a breather and try to start a little easier. Angela, why don't you try defending yourself from Ana's...claims?”

The witch barked out a laugh that startled them both. She was practically shaking from adrenaline and fear as she chuckled darkly, “I can't refute the truth. The old hag is right; I am The Witch of the Wilds.”

The young man faltered and lowered his hands. He looked completely lost and confused by the revelation and tried to spit out a response.

Ana put her hands on her hips and pointed to Angela with her chin, “Tell him how you ripped Gabriel's soul from his body. Or maybe how you turned that poor Lacroix woman into a blood-drinking demon. Or that you can raise the dead and create life from nothing but a pile of sown flesh.”

The air was chilling dangerously as Angela responded.

“Gabriel sold his soul for power far before I stumbled across him and if anything, I _helped_ him by tethering what was left of it to his physical body. As for Lacroix, she knew the risk of accepting a deal from me and knew what would happen if she couldn't keep her end of it. Her eating her husband wasn't my problem.”

“And Adlersbrunn,” The witch snickered and met Ana's gaze, “was the only goal I ever had in mind. I didn't care for whatever the hell Junkenstein wanted, I only needed his able body and creations to get me into the castle. The only monster that fell that night was the king you called friend.”

“Oh? Do you mean Reinhardt?” Ana asked with raised eyebrows.

Angela scoffed at the old woman. “Did you lose part of your brain when you lost your eye? Balderich von Adler--”

“Died over thirty years ago.”

Ana turned away and folded her hands behind her back as she slowly paced the floor while speaking. “Balderich was the rightful heir to the throne, but never lived to take it. He was killed during The Holy War and, before dying, bequeathed his crown to his best friend and most trusted comrade.”

“Reinhardt Wilhelm was his name, and he never wanted to be the king of Adlersbrunn.”

The temperature of the room took a noticeable plunge and the witch couldn't help her fingers from digging into Horus's flank. “And you call me a liar.” She sneered at the old woman.

“I assure you that I speak the truth. Reinhardt ruled under the guise of Balderich to keep up appearances. No one questioned why the previously very social prince became withdrawn after returning from war.”

Lúcio lifted his head and whispered out, “You asked me if I knew who you were and I...you're The Witch...”

He grit his teeth and suddenly yelled, “You killed a whole kingdom in one night! You used your magic for evil! Why did you even bother telling me all that—that _crap_ last night?! Why did you even bother helping this tiny village! Why even help at all?!”

The witch grimaced and struggled to find an answer. The chill that had been consuming the room grew worse and the pressure behind her forehead was returning dangerously.

“Seeking redemption, no doubt.” The old woman chuckled humorlessly, “Am I wrong? Have you actually managed to sink to the lowly level of we humans and feel regret for your actions?”

A startled gasp drew both their attentions back to the young man and he clamped a hand over his mouth. Tears were steadily sliding down his face and he asked between his fingers, “Did you kill her too? Is that why you're doing all of this?”

Angela's throat closed and she could feel the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. The arcane that was swirling around them was so thick that it could almost be tasted. Something, some _one_ was about to give.

It clicked suddenly to the alchemist and she spun on her heel with a dark look on her face. “What did you do to my daughter?”

Horus glanced up at her once before letting out a pitiful growl and trying to raise up off the bed. Angela lightly pushed him back down and calmly placed a hand on his head. She wouldn't meet either of their gazes and instead opted to stare at her covered feet.

“It's not simple to say. Fareeha took a risk in trying to wield my magic and paid an unimaginable price for it.” The witch squeezed her eyes shut as she spoke. “Her very soul has become entwined with magic, possessed in a sense. By all accounts...she is dead. And it's all my fault.”

Her voice broke and she bit her lip, willing herself not to break down in front of them and continuing, “I've read every book imaginable, traveled to the furthest corners of this land, and sought out any information available, but I have nothing. I can't bring her back.”

How it happened so fast was lost to Angela but granted she wasn't paying much attention to realize that the rifle was sitting so close. She hadn't even finished speaking before pain bloomed in her shoulder and spread down her arm. The sound came after it all.

The tip of the gun was smoking lightly, Lúcio's gaping stare a mere inches from it. From behind the scope Ana wore a disturbingly calm expression. The only sign of the violent outburst was how her finger twitched on the trigger in preparation to fire again.

Blood leaked heavily from the burning wound and stained the already filthy bed and slip the witch wore. Horus was already trying to wriggle his way off the bed and snarling by the time Angela registered that she had been shot.

“I'll give you long enough to tell me why Fareeha would align herself with a monster like you before I put a bullet between your eyes.”

Lúcio lurched forward in an attempt to stop the old woman but was stopped by a rough shove back. He fell flat on his back and lay there groaning as Ana stepped over him. The rifle was never lowered.

“ _Tell me._ ”

Angela could feel an all too familiar hollowness form in her chest and allowed it to consume her body. It numbed the pain as it paralyzed her.

Despite this, her left hand lifted from the sheets. The binding script etched into her skin was the only thing she could see as she answered.

“She promised not to leave me.”

The sound came before the pain this time. Angela watched her fingers be blown off with no emotion. What flesh wasn't obliterated by the bullet was thrown in every which way, crushed bones and blood spurting in tow.

Where there was once overbearing heat and wrathful flame, there was now a deep set chill and deathly ice. Magic took control of her body and threatened to seep out as it began rapidly regenerating her body. It wasn't healing at her request or will, only hurriedly mending so that it didn't lose it's vessel.

She truly was a failure after all.

The sole reason for her being alive – to assure that those who died because of her could finally be at peace – was meaningless. Even now and despite the whispers in her ear that death would lovingly embrace her and let her be at peace, she couldn't even successfully die.

There was no point in repairing their cottage.

There was no point in trying to begin again.

There was no point in having a child.

Fareeha sacrificed herself for absolutely nothing.

The following bullets peppered her body in various places. Four to the torso, three to the arm, two in the throat, and one between the eyes. None of them had time to cause any real harm at the rapid rate her magic was working at.

The only reprieve given was when Ana reloaded her rifle and in those precious few seconds two things happened.

One, Angela's body resumed healing itself and she continued staring forward at something unseen. She had stopped feeling the impacts and the tearing wounds after losing and then regrowing her hand. Whether the numbness was caused by the magic rushing to keep her alive or her rebirthed sense of utter despair couldn't be distinguished.

Two, Lúcio was now on his feet and shoving the aimed gun away. He had only one crutch tied to his arm, the other's leather strap that tied around his forearm having snapped during the fall. When Ana knocked him upside the head with the barrel of her rifle and barked at him to move he remained standing between them.

He suddenly grabbed the rifle and dug it into his own chest while yelling breathlessly, “You're either gonna stop shooting or shooting me next! I'm done with this, all of it! I'm done _listening_ and I'm done _feeling_ all this...this crap!”

“No one is keeping you here.” Ana said without loosening her grip on her weapon, “If you can't stomach witnessing justice in it's purest form then you can leave while I kill the witch.”

“No! No one else is getting hurt or dying!”

“She's right.”

Both heads turned to look at Angela and her sudden speech. The blonde wet her lips and forced herself to meet Lúcio's dark eyes while saying, “It's time to end this; it's for the best. I willingly accept my death. Just go, Lúcio. You shouldn't have to watch this.”

He stared back incredulously and opened his mouth to say something but cut himself off by gritting his teeth. An arm snapped up and knocked the gun out of the alchemist's hands and clattering to the floor.

There were tears and snot slinking down his face as he angrily yelled, “You were right before! You're not a guardian angel or a hero! You're an idiot! A big, dumb, stupid idiot! Making the decision to willingly die is something only an idiot does!”

The witch met his gaze and watched him in confusion as he stumbled closer to her and continued.

“You _just_ told me that life goes on, that it finds a way! How the hell can you turn around and say that you're accepting the exact opposite?! How the hell can you turn your back on what you promised Fareeha and just give up?!”

“This is different,” Angela hid behind her bangs in shame, “and you're stuck being too idealistic. Fareeha is gone. I have damned her. Her soul is somewhere that I don't think I can reach--”

A fist hit against one of the bedposts and Lúcio's face flushed red as he all but screamed, “ _Then think, damn it!_ Find another way! Live on! Learn more about magic, find a way to help people like Fareeha! Or Satya! You may be able to accept it, but I can't! I won't let you abandon all possibility of hope to just die like a coward for _nothing_!”

He surged forward again but forgot about his missing crutch and tripped over his lagging feet, crashing down and hitting his face on the bedpost before tumbling to the floor. Both Ana and Angela gasped and started towards him as he raised up on his elbows.

From his crouched position he angrily growled, “ _Oh great!_ And now my nose is broken all because the lady I thought was my hero turned out to be a bigger idiot than me!”

Angela gently moved Horus and stumbled out of the bed, crouching down beside Lúcio and placing an uneasy hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her with his wet eyes and bleeding nose and whispered, “I just found someone who told me that they care about me, someone who believes in me and thinks that I can be good. And I know you were telling the truth last night – I could _feel_ it. I can't just let that go...not after spending so many years alone and hating myself.”

Emotion closed the witch's throat as she gazed into the young man's eyes. The feeling was akin to what possessed her that night when she gave him her parting words and Angela couldn't bring herself to say anything more then what immediately escaped her lips.

“I know. Lúcio, _I know_.” Her fingers gingerly traced down the slope and unnatural crook of his nose to fix the break, ending with her wiping the blood away.

Once cleaned away she brought her stained fingers to his cheek to grip tightly and continued. “I'm sorry. You're right and I'm so sorry it took you getting upset for me to realize it. But there's something else I didn't tell you last night that I foolishly thought I could protect you from.”

Tears tracked the hard lines of Angela's face as she hoarsely said, “Life isn't fair, Lúcio. It never will be. No matter how much you hope or wish for it, I can't promise you that I will never leave you. But I will promise you that I will _try_.”

She lifted her head and met Ana's single eye with new found determination. The old woman's face was set into a deep frown but her eyebrows were raised in question at the sudden look the witch gave her.

“I guess that means were back to where we started?” The alchemist stiffly asked. Angela nodded and she _tsk-_ ed while looking away.

A growing silence in the room was broken after the old woman muttered to herself indistinctly and abruptly – and rather loudly – stated, “You will take me to see my daughter.”

Angela once again couldn't help the sudden flash of her old self or the snap that came with it. “And what makes you think she wants to see _you_? Fareeha only mentioned you once and if the anguish she was in while doing so is any indication--”

“She is my child!” Ana barked back. All at once all of her ferocity had been replaced with a melancholy all too familiar.

“She is my child,” She repeated softly, “and there isn't anything I wouldn't do for her. The ties that bind a mother and child are endless and deep. Perhaps even more powerful than magic.”

With a pointed look and in a more than slightly portentous tone, Ana tacked on, “But how would you know anything like that?”

 

 

Their arrangements, if they could even been called that, were made within the span of ten minutes or less.

The journey back to the cottage would take four weeks minimum and six maximum. The very thin shred of hope Angela clung to willed it the be the minimum.

However with their current circumstances...

“So how do you cast spells without using incantations? I've seen some people perform magic using runes or drawn circles before but never learned the difference. Is there one or is it personal preference?”

Angela stopped herself from loudly groaning and continued fanning herself with the straw hat she received as a gift from one of the villagers. The sweat that clung to her body was adding more frustration to the mountain of reasons for her constantly irate state of being.

Lúcio was sweet and nothing short of eager to learn from her. But if he didn't stop wildly gesturing or squirming his way further into her back she was going to choke him to unconciousness.

Their shared and 'borrowed' horse seemed to be having none of it as well and would try on occasion to shake or buck the two off. The dark grey mare seemed to share in the bitchy attitude and it only succeeded in pissing her off further.

When she'd grumble to herself about this fact, the loosely tied sling around her neck would flutter and shift as Horus insisted he be returned to his equine form. Angela would shush him and push his feathery head back into the sling to continue resting while checking that he hadn't aggravated his wounds.

It was her intention to turn him into something much smaller and more compact for travel while he healed, but the falcon cradled against her chest wasn't what she was expecting. Both creature and human were surprised at the sheer size of the bird and learned very quickly to move cautiously around the massive talons and sharp beak.

Upon first viewing and hearing Ana comment on the significance of such a creature to her culture, Angela understood why Fareeha's helmet looked the way it did. The falcon was as impressive as it was beautiful; it was a fitting creature to match it's previous companion.

Horus and his current state of being wasn't helping her and the excessive amounts of sweat she was accumulating or her sour mood. He was trying, bless him, but he was only making her angrier.

Ana had demanded that they leave immediately and so one very awkward talk with the village elders about the wrecked house and barely an hour of rushed packing later, they were on their way. Lúcio had also demanded that he go with them so he could still play moderator to the witch and alchemist.

In all reality, he had practically clung to Angela's leg and begged her to take him as her student.

It hadn't taken much begging and puppy-dog eyes for her to sigh and agree. And to reiterate, he was very kind and very keen, but all of his happiness and positivity had started making her sick.

Truthfully, all fault could and would be placed on the old woman who road ahead of them and adamantly refused to slow down.

She neglected to listen to either when it came to requests to stop and forced them to travel far into the night. The fact that Angela had gotten very little sleep on top of her intense outburst before initially leaving had fallen on deaf ears and continued to.

Long days of riding with little to no breaks were followed by short and uncomfortable nights spent trying to sleep on the hard ground. With how tightly Ana was trying to keep some unknown schedule they barely had time to get out their bedrolls before she gave them a small time frame to sleep within. It seemed like every time Angela was just beginning to fall asleep it was time to resume riding.

The soreness in her ass didn't even have time to fade and was soon accompanied by a stiff back. Those aches seemed to only make the usual pains worse. The tenderness in her chest and the swelling in her feet ceased to fade along with a rediscovered sense of nausea that became stronger with the heat.

After five days of mounting irritation it was starting to become clearer to Lúcio that maybe he should calm his antics. Thankfully he noticed that Angela was choosing to ignore him now and went back to his last given task of fusing a torn leaf back together.

Angela grimaced suddenly and moved her hat back onto her head before calling out to the alchemist. “I need to stop again.”

The old woman didn't even give her second's glance and kept blazing a trail. The witch grit her teeth and yelled a little louder. “I'm stopping! If you want to get lost on your own be my damn guest!”

A sharp tug on the reins halted the mare and Angela winced as she slid off it's bareback. Never before had she thought a saddle would be comfortable. She started hobbling off into the trees when Ana finally noticed and angrily shouted back.

“You're wasting daylight! I'm beginning to think that you're trying to delay us with all the stops you make!”

The witch cursed the woman under her breath as she relived herself out of sight and returned to wash her hands using water from a skin pouch. Ana scoffed at her and made her own heather coloured horse continue further ahead.

Only once seated and moving did Lúcio open his mouth again. “According to your map, there's a town up ahead. I hate to ask, but my legs are getting pretty sore from being splayed like this and being flat on the ground; do you think we could stop there for at least one night?”

“I don't know,” Angela growled, “why don't you ask the bitch that's running us ragged?”

They both knew the answer such a question would receive but ever the optimist, Lúcio asked anyway.

It hadn't really hit her what the hard 'no' meant until they passed through and were leaving the town.

Another sleepless night tossing and turning on the ground, another day of endless riding and trying not to piss all over herself, another five weeks of nothing but pain and anger only to return home and not be able to feel comfortable even there with two strangers breathing down her neck.

The slight mental breakdown that followed brought them to a stop and it wasn't until Angela was near the brink of tearful hysteria that Ana quickly relented and lead them back into town.

The inn was tiny with it's three cots pressed up against each other but it didn't matter. As soon as the door was shut and blue eyes fell upon the hastily made up beds it was all over. Angela didn't even care that the other two were in the room or that up until this point she was trying to hide her pregnancy from Ana and stripped herself bare before collapsing into the sheets.

It was the most satisfying sleep she had had in what felt like forever.

When she rose from the bed and rubbed the sticky from her eyes, Angela found herself staring at Ana from across the room.

The alchemist was sitting at a small table and carefully peeling a fruit using her thick knife. The old woman motioned to the other chair and the witch realized the situation she was now in.

“It's reckless and stupid to wear a corset in your condition.” Ana stated simply. “You do realize the harm you could cause to that child, correct?”

Before Angela could respond she noticed a dark orange dress resting atop her legs and listened to the other woman tell her, “A nice merchant down the road had that in his shop. You could at least humor me by trying it on and perhaps thank me by coming over here.”

Lúcio was snoring softly in the cot beside the witch as she dressed and carefully sat across from Ana at the table. Half of the fruit was extended to her as well as a thick glass of yellow liquid.

“Consider it a peace offering.” The alchemist chuckled, not missing the blonde's hesitance.

Angela cleared her throat and suspiciously gazed at the glass. “What exactly is that atrocious creation?”

“A tonic of my own design. It should sooth pain and quell any other of your symptoms. Your student explained how you've exhausted your magical abilities to heal yourself, so I thought I'd help. One drop and I don't think you'll notice any of your current discomfort.”

Choosing the fruit first, the witch devoured it instantly and gratefully took the offered other half. Ana rested her chin in her palm and sighed, “I always hoped that if I saw Fareeha again it would include meeting her new family. But this is not quite what I was expecting.”

“Why did you leave?” Angela asked around a mouthful of fruit. “The one time she talked of you was the anniversary of your death, or so she said. Fareeha believed you died during The Holy War and yet here you are.”

“Yes, here I am.” Ana closed her eye and spoke tightly, “Choosing to not return to her was the hardest decision I ever made. I was declared dead by my comrades and found by my enemies. By the time I recovered from my injuries I was too far behind enemy lines to even begin thinking of returning home.”

“I was afraid that if I tried to blindly run back that I would bring all the death and destruction I caused during the war straight to her. I did it to protect her from the hard truth of war: there are no such things as heroes.”

Angela narrowed her brows and snorted. “So instead you leave her all alone and deny her the love of her own mother, of her greatest source of knowledge? You can try to make your reasons sound noble but you come off as selfish. You didn't protect Fareeha, you protected your wounded pride.”

There was a sudden guilt on Ana's face as she asked, “Is that what she truly thought of me? That I was selfish? Just tell me...please. You know my daughter better than I do...”

“I'm only inferring.” Angela sighed while sitting back in her seat. She turned her gaze to Lúcio and slowly spoke, “She never said much directly, but the look on her face when mentioning you was...I think you were always on her mind.”

The witch refused to look at the alchemist and silently scolded herself for the sudden emotion in her voice as she admitted. “I infer based on my own experience and feelings. I can both never thank or forgive my parents for what they did and to this day I'm confused about how I feel. To be left alone by the people who literally gave parts of themselves to create you is an indescribable hurt.”

Ana caught her attention by wiping a tear from her eye. “Are you truly incapable of bringing her back? You brought back Doctor Junkenstein from death's grip so surely you could--”

She waved a hand to cut the other woman off. “That was different. Fareeha is stuck both living and dying. My ability to raise the dead wouldn't help her, but believe me I tried. The dead I bring back are without their souls, empty husks that roam without direction.”

The frustrated noise Ana made caught the witch off guard and drew her attention back to her. “Maybe there is something my alchemy can do...” She offered weakly.

“I have one theory that was given to me by an...acquaintance.”

Angela raised both her index fingers and held them apart at a small distance while explaining, gradually moving them closer together.

“He told me that there is a thin but nearly impenetrable force separating the world we currently sit in and a world of pure darkness. If you focus your life force hard enough, not magic or alchemy but your very soul, you could phase through the veil and step into that alternate world. In a sense you would exist in both simultaneously: your body in this physical realm and your mind in the other.”

“And your acquaintance has done this before, has passed through to this world of darkness?” The alchemist asked with raised brows.

Her hands were lowered and Angela drummed her fingers against the table. “Zenyatta is...strange. He doesn't have a soul to harness energy from so I have no idea how he does it. He has claimed this place is where souls go once they've left a person's body, however he's also lead me down endless rabbit holes before so I haven't researched much. It is as I said just a theory.”

“A theory is better than giving up.”

“It's untested and frankly quite ludicrous. To try and pass through the veil may be impossible in its own right, but to then try to extract a soul that's been trapped? It would have to be tested before I'd even dare attempt it on Fareeha; there is too much that could go wrong.”

Ana reached across the table and suddenly took Angela's hands in her own, a serious look taking over her features. “If there is even the slightest chance that Fareeha is there and can be pulled out, you must try. I am _begging_ you, bring back my daughter. Do it for her, for your unborn child. You said it yourself, no child should have to grow without their parents.”

The glass of tonic was pressed into Angela's hands and the old woman chuckled to herself. “Maybe I too am seeking redemption for my past sins. That doesn't mean I expect you to trust or like me, but if you are willing to set aside your hate to end this then so am I. For Fareeha's sake.”

In favor of voicing her agreement, the witch instead lifted the glass and drained it in one go. She couldn't help but smack her lips at the tart flavour and found herself returning the genuine smile Ana was presenting to her.

“For Fareeha.” She said with a tip of the glass before setting it back down.

Ana nodded along and rose from her seat accompanied with various pops and cracks of her bones. “You should get some rest. The tonic works best that way and I believe that I owe you another day or two of sleep. Take it as a sign of good faith.”

Angela didn't have to be told twice and immediately returned to her cot.

Drifting off to sleep was difficult now that she had so many thoughts racing through her mind about the conversation and the veil theory. When it did come it was another deep sleep that once again brought forth an intense lax upon waking next.

This time her eyes weren't the only things stuck together and the witch couldn't stop her panic from growing when she found she couldn't speak. A thickness weighed down her throat so that the most she could manage was a weak groan that finished with it a harsh cough at the irritation it brought.

Something warm and wet was dabbed across her forehead and neck and once she forced her eyes open she found the old woman sitting beside her with a wet cloth.

“Don't try and speak, you'll make it worse.” Ana muttered softly as she worked. “You've caught an illness I'm afraid.”

A harsh churn in her stomach brought tears to Angela's eyes and she whimpered at the sensation. Whatever sickness this was wasn't like anything she'd felt before and it probably wasn't considering how fast it affected her.

Another cough and she felt bile trying to rise past the blockage in her throat, a few droplets leaking out the corners of her mouth to be wiped away with the cloth.

“Sleep, child. I sent the boy out to fetch herbs for a healing potion but rest is the best medicine. I'm sure you'll feel better the next time you wake.”

The next time she woke she felt worse.

It felt like Angela had been dragged behind a horse for miles and the pain in her stomach was worse than before. Her throat had cleared enough for her to weakly speak and ask Lúcio to help her sit up but all speech was met with more coughing.

She kept a hand over her mouth as she wetly hacked and bent forward at its intensity. Lúcio had just moved away to retrieve another wet cloth when the gagging began. Each heave made the burn in her stomach rise higher and higher until Angela was trying to hold it in with her hand.

The blood that she found herself choking around shocked both of them.

It was thick and dark, like blood from an open wound, and despite her best efforts the witch couldn't ignore the thin strips of gore that came with it. The clots of flesh were stringing together and clinging to her lips as she vomited into the sheets and onto herself.

There seemed to be no end to it. Where the blood was coming from and why it was coming in such large amounts horrified Angela and sent Lúcio in a frenzy.

From across the room and with an eerie calm, Ana sat watching them panic while stirring her tea.

She caught their attention with her sudden sly smirk. “I suppose I was true to my word. One drop and you've forgotten all of your previous pain.”

Angela dug her fingernails into the ruined sheets and tried her best to growl around all the blood, “Y-you f-fu...fucki-ng...bit-bitch!”

“Let me make myself clear, I meant what I said about working together for Fareeha's sake. But I neglected to mention that it will only be done on my terms.” Ana took a sip from her pink teacup and laughed, “Oh how the tables have turned! The Witch of The Wilds, infamous for her deals that come with high prices, now forced to either die or succumb to a deal herself!”

Lúcio opened his mouth to yell but was cut off by the small sidearm that was suddenly aimed at him.

Ana lowered her teacup and crossed one leg over the other. Her grip on her small gun was almost leisurely as she spoke. “You said the dead you bring back are without souls but you had a way that you could possibly drag souls back from whatever lies beyond. I agree that it is unsafe to attempt it on Fareeha, which is why your first won't be her.”

Another bout of choking caused the alchemist to pause for a moment and Angela took this time to yank a lengthy string of flesh from between her teeth. “I assume th-that I must obey...lest I s-succumb to whatever this is?”

“Correct. At the moment you are vomiting the thin lining of your stomach but in time it will graduate to your organs liquidizing. I have the potion to reverse the tonic and I will give it to you after you agree to my terms.”

The teacup was raised again and the old woman took another sip from it without breaking eye contact with the witch.

“Atone for your sins, Witch of the Wilds. Bring back the man you murdered in cold blood. Resurrect Reinhardt Wilhelm.”

Hacking more blood into the sheets, Angela tried to fruitlessly wipe some of the mess off her face with her arm but only managed to smear it further. She could feel the magic inside her twisting and swirling and could feel the flesh beneath her fingernails all too well.

But no amount of anger or magic could change the fact that she could actually agree with the woman who sought to kill her. This was going to end in her death no matter what she chose. Ana would either kill her now or later and being offered a chance to right her previous wrongdoings couldn't be passed up.

Perhaps her path to redemption, her way to her new beginning and the way to the end was back in Adlersbrunn decaying in a suit of armor. Or perhaps she was deluding herself further. But what did she have to lose at this point?

Trying to make herself look as dignified as possible while soaked in her own blood, the witch lifted her chin and masqueraded a wicked smirk.

“You have yourself a deal, Alchemist.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not my usual upload day, but it's been a while. I'm so sorry it's taking so long. Life really isn't fair sometimes. I'm sorry.


	6. Unhealed Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I've come to understand why Fareeha chose you."

The earth underfoot was soft and malleable, made this way by the light summer showers that had only just stopped. Sunlight flitted through the trees and dappled the overgrown path with spotlights to pronounce the damp grass and skittering creatures that ran freely.

A gust of wind lifted hair that the rain had stuck to her forehead and provided a generous reprieve from the heat of summer. The heavy mountain breeze brought the trailing horse to a pause and whipped it's fine hair out of it's neatly made braids, leading to a frustrated groan from the young man riding it.

“I just finished with those braids...” Lúcio mumbled to himself before sighing and resigning himself to recreating the style.

He continued speaking but Angela had gotten lost in thought as she stared past the trees and hills. The first glimpses of civilization could be seen through the untamed foliage.

_This is no longer a longstanding civilization, no longer a thriving kingdom._

In the distance, the spires of the castle could be seen mingling among the clouds and blue sky. The scarred and torn bricks were practically unseen from where they stood – unless you knew where to look.

_This was my home..._

Morbid curiosity throughout the months had lead her to wonder if anyone had stayed behind in the crumbling ruins. If the gossip of the towns and villages surrounding the area were true, those who didn't immediately flee were slaughtered.

Talks of a dragon feasting upon the souls of those unable or unwilling to escape the massacre, stories of how a man with rotting flesh and a terrible laugh descended upon the nobility with a monster at his side, whispers of how a man cloaked in black sought to construct piles of bodies into the heavens.

It was unsurprising to hear of such things. The only hearsay that truly caught her attention was the hushed retelling from a survivor who claimed to hear the Witch of The Wilds celebrating with a stunning display of magical power and a victorious screech.

Even now it brought forth such a strong emotion that Angela stopped mid-stride and let the magic within her harden over her skin like the bark of a tree.

_This place is hell._

“Teacher?”

She sighed through the nose and resumed her pace with a tug of the reins.

“What is it, Lúcio?” Angela asked quieter than intended.

He couldn't help his giggle as he said, “I think I've found something even cuter than braids. Look!”

The backwards glance she gave him and the horse wasn't long enough to fully take in the sight and so she stopped again to soak it in.

Lúcio sat in the saddle with a ear to ear grin on his face and eyes twinkling with pride as he vigorously wiggled his fingers in presentation of his latest creation. The wispy silver hair of the horse had been bundled into at least a dozen tight buns, each finished with a brightly coloured flower and neatly made bow of twine.

The mare snorted heavily at Angela and promptly made her displeasure known to the witch. A harsh flick of the ears punctuated the rather harsh curse thrown at the young man and he let out a scandalized gasp.

“I can hear you too, ya know!” Lúcio scoffed and then pouted as he began pulling the flowers and twine out, “And jeez, Kyrie, watch your language.”

“You _named_ it?” Angela groaned and pulled the horse into motion again. “I told you not to name it; you'll get attached! And what the hell kind of name is that anyway?”

“Hey hey, it's a good name! Kyrie, short for _Valkyrie_. I saw it in one of your books and thought it had a nice ring to it. That and it sounds good when paired with Horus.”

The leaves rustled with heavy movement and many rained down upon them as branches shook, some even snapping in wake of the large mass approaching the ground rapidly. The falcon went from dangerous speeds to carefully landing atop Angela's head, mindful of his talons.

Summoned by his name, Horus chittered loudly from his perch and smacked a wing against the witch's forehead lightly.

Angela brushed his feathers away and couldn't help the smile that formed on her lips. It was clear what he wanted but she was prepared to once again refuse him. Ever the spoiled brat, he flapped both wings against her head this time and let out a much louder and shriller cry.

She swatted him away again and chuckled, “You can return to your true form on your own now, you've done it before. Stop asking me to waste my time and energy on you because you are lazy and entitled.”

Horus pecked gently at her hair in irritation before hopping down to her shoulder and then to the ground. Angela walked past him and the sickening sound his bones made as they snapped and popped into new positions. They didn't get far before the newly formed chestnut coloured horse galloped up and cut them off with a loud whinny.

The thick scar that dragged the length of his forehead and muzzle failed to diminish the bright twinkle in his eye. Nor did the massive span of hairless and unfeeling stretched skin from his left flank to hip hinder his stride.

Lúcio grinned at the horse and leaned forward on his own mount. “Good to see you back, buddy. Race ya!”

The reins were released in time for the mare to take off down the path, her rider cheering all the while. Angela stared after them and sighed in exasperation while placing a hand to her forehead. “It's good to see him stay a child while he still can be.” She admitted with a soft smile.

A nose nudged the back of her head and she turned to face Horus. He bowed his head to her rapidly and stepped closer to bump his shoulder into her side in a careful manner. The blonde scoffed and shoved him off while saying, “I'm fine walking, Horus. When did you get so soft on me anyway?”

A slow blink of the eyes answered for him cryptically and when she didn't respond he lowered his head to very gently press his scarred muzzle against her round belly.

The witch cleared her throat of unexpected emotion and took a step back. Horus moved away as well and gradually knelt to the ground with an expectant look. Angela mounted him slowly and gripped his mane tightly as he rose.

They trotted briskly through the dense forest in silence. Both kept their heads down and thoughts to themselves as they passed through. It looked vaguely familiar yet so different from the last time they traveled this path. Everything that had been dead were now living.

When they eventually caught up to Lúcio he noticed their shared somber state quickly. “Everything okay?” He asked with a concerned frown.

“Yes.” Angela answered tightly. She was unable to meet his gaze while passing him and diverted quickly. “We had better hurry. I'm sure Ana won't be pleased that it's taking us so long to get there. I can only imagine what she'll say once we arrive.”

“I mean, I get why she went ahead of us...actually I don't. I thought the kingdom was empty, who would she need to prepare to meet us?”

_The body._

Angela bit her tongue at once to stop herself from voicing the thought and instead shrugged. She avoided the conversation once again and said, “I only hope Zenyatta received my message and is almost there.”

The young man nodded along sagely. “It'll be kinda hard to do this without him, after all. I know you said that he's bad news, but I'm pretty excited to meet him! He's gotta know so much about magic that I--”

“Do _not_ speak to Zenyatta about magic!” Angela snarled without warning, “What was the golden rule I told you? The one thing you are not to do!”

Lúcio deflated and quietly answered, “T-to not use dark magic...and to stay away from it--”

“Stay _far_ away from it! I will not tolerate you falling prey to the corrupting ways of dark magic! Zenyatta practically embodies evil and is the last person you want to learn from! And that's coming from the fool that found a way to raise the dead! One single thought about anything to do with dark magic and I swear to whatever god is watching that I'll make you run laps!”

The laugh that followed caught her off guard and Angela whipped her head around to angrily gaze upon her student, ready to eat him alive for finding this conversation funny.

He came to ride alongside her and either didn't notice or didn't care about her anger. The grin he wore spread from ear to ear as he spoke. “Sorry! It's just that when you get like that I can't help but imagine how great of a mom you're gonna be! Scary, _definitely_ scary, but really caring and protective.”

Angela flushed pink from her neck to her hairline and mumbled out various weak retorts. Lúcio ignored her embarrassment and asked, “Speaking of, how is the little guy? Still being restless or has he calmed down some?”

On reflex a hand touched the large swell and moved slowly around it's circumference in search of any irregularities or small movements. The motion sent such a strange sense of serenity and a glowing warmth to Angela's chest, the sensation reaching new highs when the being inside her lurched softly into her hand.

“Much calmer than this morning.” She then gave her student a glance out of the corner of her eye and commented, “You seem rather dead set on it being a boy. Do you know something that I don't or are you a skilled baby whisperer?”

“Hah! I wish! It'd make this whole healer thing a lot cooler, don't you think?” A hand pushed a few stray braids behind an ear as Lúcio said, “I just got a feelin' is all. Do you think it has anything to do with the spell you cast?”

The witch hummed in thought for a moment while drumming her fingers atop her stomach before answering. “The spell I created to induce pregnancy was very simplistic. The... _traditional_ way of having a child was out of the question for us due to our biology, but I found a way to work around that using my magic. Not to say that science wasn't involved to an extent but I am no expert on the subject. I did have to use both mine and Fareeha's blood and hair to ensure that it is indeed our child. It shouldn't have any adverse side effects.”

She then added with a smirk, “Not to be too arrogant, as I usually am, but this spell is damn near perfect. To be able to create life is a wondrous thing. I'm glad I am able to share such a thing with Fareeha. I just wish...” She stopped herself and blinked away sudden tears while muttering, “...damn hormones...”

Lúcio let her compose herself before asking with a smile, “It's almost time, right? Got any names planned for him? Or _her_ I guess – but I'm still holding strong to a boy!”

“I have a few in mind.” Angela sighed. She was still stuck on her last thought and was less eager to continue talking about the baby. At the same time, she knew Lucio was trying to cheer her up and decided to humor him and his kindness.

He nodded along to the small list of names she rattled off and offered with a cheeky grin, “You know what's a really good name? Lúcio Jr!” She burst out laughing at this and he giggled with her. “I'm serious; it's a good name!”

“No offense, but I doubt Fareeha would enjoy waking up to find that her child is named after a man she's never met.” The witch said with fading laughter.

“I'm sure she'll be fine with it once she meets that man!” Lúcio met the blonde's gaze and said with a half-smile, “I can't wait to meet her. All the stories you've told got me seriously excited. She's gotta be such an amazing person.”

The sadness returned forcefully and brought tears to her eyes.

Anxiety swirled into a tight knot in the center of her chest and refused to fade. There were so many worries that she so badly wanted to vomit out and so much tension that she wanted to cry out. But her refusal to break down won over in the end and so it was all pushed back behind a mental door.

Never mind the fact that that very door was barely standing anymore. She knew it wasn't doing any good to try and stave off the feelings of dread but if she spent more time convincing herself she could perhaps they would go away. Perhaps the door could hold on for a little while longer.

Countering the topic of discussion for a third time, Angela kept her eyes forward and asked, “How are your legs? I may have been serious when I said I'd make you run laps, you know.”

A leg lifted and kicked at the air to punctuate his point as Lúcio responded. “Still stiff and a little slow on the uptake, but in a lot better working condition than last week! I'm making some real progress; I bet by the end of the month I'm able to walk without the crutch!”

The item in question drew Angela's gaze to the young man. The single crutch that remained was hanging from his saddle and swung loosely with the mare's movements. It would be a complete lie to say that she wasn't impressed with how far he had come in healing himself.

“You're doing a great job.” The witch complimented, “I imagine that if you continue at your current rate you'll surpass my own skill quite soon.”

A wary smile formed on her lips as she added, “But I was never much of a healer anyway. I tended to use my magic for more...life-threatening uses as opposed to life-saving.”

Lúcio hid is blush by rubbing his hand across his stubbly jaw. “Nah...you gotta give yourself more credit, Angela. You're the one people call the guardian angel. I'm just the music guy.”

“I told you before, Lúcio, some day you will be the one with that title. I just happen to think that that day will come sooner than expected.” Her eyes turned up to the sky and studied it carefully before declaring, “It's going to rain again soon.”

He followed her gaze and made a noise of disbelief. “No way! Sun's shining, what clouds are out look friendly and fluffy, and my legs aren't aching. You're crazy, Angie.”

Her mouth opened to speak again when a gust of wind left her mouth full of hair. Spitting and pulling it away from her face, Angela grumbled and tucked the offending hair behind her ears. Lúcio giggled at her frustration and offered one of his slim pieces of twine.

Angela waved him off and brushed the last unruly strands back while saying, “Tying it won't help I'm afraid. It's gotten far too long to even be reasonable. I need a haircut...”

“Aww, I kinda like you with long hair. And it's not past your waist yet – I don't consider that unreasonably long.” Lúcio dramatically flipped his own hair and added, “Can't do that with short hair, can you?”

“No, but I can hide the grey better when it's short.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes at her comment. “I know you're alluding to being old – which you _aren't_ – but I honestly think that once all this is over with and you aren't under so much stress it'll go back to normal.”

She threw her head back and laughed, the motion catching him off guard slightly. “Lúcio, I live, breath, and eat stress. My hair has been turning white since I was fourteen. If you can't feel how worn down I am right now then I think you need to rethink your title as an empath.”

“Oh don't get me wrong, I _definitely_ feel it. I'm just looking for the silver lining, ya know? Thing's will turn out right, I'm know it! You gotta believe!”

“Your optimism boundless. It's is going to make me turn to drink one of these days.”

They came to the edge of the forest and stopped just at the edge of a long and empty plane. The sun shone down on the grassy land in near waves, clouds slowly rolling across the sun and blocking it's light for short moments. Untamed and wild wheat fields outlined crumbling buildings and fallen watchtowers, the only sure signs of life the crows that flew overhead.

All at once the previous apprehension drained from the witch's body and numbness filled the void it left behind.

A breeze became a hard gale and whipped her hair back. The force of the wind burned her eyes and birthed tears but she refused to blink or look away from the sight before her.

Fingers curled tightly into Horus's mane in an attempt to ground herself and a single, involuntary thought returned the anxiety.

_I wish that you were here._

When the tears crested down her cheeks they were wiped away by the gradually gentling breeze. The wind that caressed her face carried with it a haunting affirmation that Angela begged to be real and not an illusion of her own mind.

She could almost see it clearly, could almost feel the warm hand wrapping around her own and squeezing carefully. She could almost feel the kiss on her cheek and the sorrowful smile against her skin as the wind whispered back in that painfully loving voice.

' _I know.'_

 

 

The rain slid down broken rooftops and through torn gables, mingling among the cobblestone streets and pooling into deep cracks or shattered steps. The grey of the sky was reflected in the decaying homes and shops littering the path. Faded strips of torn cloth, what was once perhaps clothing or proudly waving banners, would be carried by the steady trickles and then caught on rubble and detritus.

The hard _patter_ -ing of the rain against what little roofing remained was accompanied by the echoing clicks of hooves as the two traversed the empty street. Splintered wood and rusted metal along the path looked to once belong to a merchant's cart and had begun sprouting overgrown greenery and ivy.

Upon studying the plant-life closer the human remains buried underneath were more apparent. Bright pink flowers were growing out of one of it's eyes and from a deep crevice in the top of the skull.

It made her pause to let the image burn into her brain, a million thoughts running through her head as she stupidly gaped at it.

_Was this a man or a woman? A mother or a father, a sister or brother? Did they die from the wound to their head or from something else? Was their death quick or slow and drawn out? Who killed them? Did they have their soul ripped from their body? Were they trying to flee or trying to stay? What kind of person were they? What was the price of their life--_

“Angela.”

Her head snapped up and around to stare at Lúcio through the rain. Thick and thin streams of water were sliding from his hairline down his face and dripping off his chin. They created false lines on his skin and made him seem so much older and calloused. It made Angela realize that he was not in fact a child and only a little over a decade her junior.

All traces of humor and happiness had long since faded from the young man's face and instead an expression of determination had filled their place. The familiar look in his dark eyes created a heavy weight in the pit of her stomach and the tricks of her mind tried to paint a tattoo under his right eye.

Those eyes reflected the pain she felt in her chest as he said, “Relax.”

A shaky inhale was followed by a tense exhale and the witch nudged her horse to continue forward. She tried to brush wet hair off her forehead but ended up dragging a large tangle into her eyes. Angela nervously laughed at it, “I-I really need a goddamn haircut.”

“You really need to breathe.” Lúcio said with a pointed look. He glanced back at the overgrowth she had been observing and the witch prayed he didn't see what was hidden beneath. As he faced forward again he quietly admitted, “If you freak out I'm gonna freak out too...”

He started to apologize and Angela interjected before he could finish. “You don't have to say that! It's not your fault that I'm an emotional wreck right now – and yes I am, don't deny it to try and make me feel better – I just have to put all this _bullshit_ aside for _one_ fucking day!”

They were quiet for a moment before Lúcio rode closer and reached out to lightly touch her shoulder. They locked gazes and he mentioned with a small smile. “It's okay to be afraid.”

A loud thump followed by the slow creak of a rotting door saw them both springing to action, the witch's hands alighting with the arcane while her student pulled his crutch out to wield like a sword.

The two watched as the door in question opened slowly only to fall off what little hinges it hung on and crash into the rainy street, splintering off in various directions. The edge of a wide-brimmed hat poked out and Angela lowered her hands with a relieved sigh.

“It's good to see you again, Genji.”

The man stepped out into the rain and tugged his hat lower upon seeing Lúcio. He nodded firmly once in greeting before raising a hand and rasping out, “ _Yo._ ”

He started towards them and Lúcio grasped Angela's arm tightly before whispering, “I don't like this guy. He's giving off a lot of anger, like too much to be normal.”

“I trust Genji.” Angela replied, “He's been nothing short of peaceful and quiet around me. That and...” She grimaced slightly while finishing, “...I do owe him. He's the one who took care of me during my months of nothing.”

The faceless man stopped just before their horses and raised an arm to point behind him. The motion revealed his arm to be slightly off kilter, leaning too far to the left and putting his thumb nearly backwards.

His voice, thick and coarse as if he had swallowed glass, was nearly drowned by the light rainfall. “Master is waiting in the castle. Granny sent me to collect you.”

“Granny?” Angela raised her brows and slowly made the connection, bursting out, “She lets _you_ call her ' _Granny_ '?! What the hell! I've been stuck with that old hag for _how_ long and she won't even say my name but she's pinching your cheeks?!”

The laugh Genji abruptly let out caught them off guard and he turned to limp away while saying, “It is good to see you so lively, Angela.”

The path they walked became silent once more and the witch let herself sink back into her previous distress. She tugged the soaked dark blue cloak tighter around herself but refused to raise it's hood to shield herself from the rain. Her fingers reached up to touch the cool metal at the clasp and quickly found the worn line her fingernails had created in the bulb in an attempt to calm herself.

More and more remnants of the dead were passed over or by, some hidden by impromptu graves of torn banners or stacked stones but many cast out in various positions in the middle of the street.

Looming high above them and silently weeping with the rainfall, the castle drew nearer and so with it grew the number of bodies. Black char from intense flames scaled the high walls and towers, various gaping holes and crevices blown into it's sides and exposing it's weathered innards.

Just before turning the last corner to face the broad door to the castle, Lúcio gasped and covered his mouth with a hand. Angela followed his gaze down to stare at a tattered blanket and the tiny skeleton at it's unwrapped center.

The witch couldn't look away from it nor stop the nausea from creeping up her throat. A hand involuntarily came to hold the underside of her swollen stomach and a heat from more than the urge to vomit grew behind her eyes.

The tears only crested her cheeks when Lúcio whispered hoarsely, “Wh-what kind of monster would do this...?”

He didn't seem to notice her pause and continued following Genji around the bend, leaving Angela alone with the dead infant.

The rain hadn't felt cold until now, hadn't caused her to shiver or realize how soaked her clothes were and how they stuck to her skin. Ice seemed to grow from her very soul and move outwards to consume her but showed no real signs of movement. No frost or snow developed around her and the chill she felt was beneath the skin instead of atop it.

It was disgusting.

From the small bones to the discolouration on the blanket from decomposition to the emotions twisting deeply within the witch's chest. She wanted to look away, she wanted to cry out, she wanted to turn around and walk out of this godforsaken kingdom and never look back.

She wanted all of this and yet she refused to, all because one single word echoed in many voices refused to leave her ears.

_Monster._

It was just a word, one she had heard so often that she didn't realize had lost all meaning until now.

Hearing the word from Lucio, from a person who had so willingly trusted her and so easily broke down every single damn wall she put up gave it the significance it lacked before. It took decades to realize, too long for her to question it, too long for this darkness inside her to come to light.

_Are they right? Am I a monster? Is that all I've ever been? Is a monster all I'll ever be?_

“Angela.”

Blue eyes tore away from the remains and the witch could do nothing but blink at the faceless man who stood before her now.

Genji pushed his hat up to look at her beneath it's wide brim and made an attempt to raise a half-missing eyebrow at her. The expression looked more pained than questioning and Angela could hear his previous advice in the back of her mind.

_“To know yourself is to be at peace.”_

Horus swung his head to the side to eye her and let out a low bray. The deep sound helped to ground her and clear her head.

Angela lightly urged her mount forward and when they reached Genji he walked with them. The two turned the corner together and stood at the beginning of the bridge in silence, staring at the final path to whatever would happen next.

The roads they took before had been sporadically sprinkled with death and bits of bone but the bridge was almost completely covered in bodies.

Some were piled to great heights, many toppled over one another and a vast majority looked to have been trampled before succumbing to death. All of them looked to have been fleeing out the massive doors to the castle, doors that had fallen and crumbled to large piles, blocking the entrance.

The mass grave, if it could even be considered that, stretched the full length of the bridge and rampart. The sheer amount of bodies caused the witch's mouth to open in a airless gasp.

Lúcio stood at the other end of the bridge leaning heavily against a half-toppled wall and puking onto the stone.

 Genji continued walking, stepping over the dead as carefully as his stiff feet would allow him and ignoring both of their shock. He stopped after a few steps and glanced back at the blonde over his shoulder while saying, “Revenge takes only the one who seeks it.”

It was all Angela needed to answer her questions and confirm her epiphany.

Horus kept his head high, likely trying to avoid smelling the stench of death from it's source, and visibly tensed when his steps resulted in his hooves crushing and smashing various bones. Nevertheless, he took them forward through the carnage and to whatever end they were heading towards.

The only thing she could bring herself to say came out as a nearly unheard croak.

“It's a good day for rain.”

“Yes.” Genji quietly replied, “It is.”

The horses were left outside under a sole remaining lookout's stand and were both clearly displeased by it. Kyrie for being stuck with Horus and Horus for not being able to go with Angela. Both struggled against the post they were tied to and loudly protested their entrapment.

Both were ignored as the three entered the castle through the toppled doors, mindful of the debris.

Once pristine and brightly shining rugs had been reduced to ratty tissue, polished and glimmering suits of armor had rusted through and crumbled on their stands, great and beautiful portraits had been knocked to the ground and torn through.

The smell of musk and decay permeated the great hall they found themselves in and the lack of lighting made it seem endless. Contrary the unimaginable amount of bodies that lay outside the doors, there were oddly none inside. Stains and leftovers, bits and pieces, clues that they were once inside, but not anymore.

It seemed almost tidy inside. As if someone had been cleaning the abandoned castle for ghosts that still roamed the halls.

The answer of who could be keeping the empty halls surely waited for them beyond a weak, false wall.

It was constructed in the middle of a long hall out of what looked to be bricks from the stone walls outside, the mortar's placement sloppy and the gaps between individual bricks uneven as a result. The heavy wooden door with thick iron bars of varying sizes seemed laughable considering the state of the wall it stood with.

Genji approached the door and, instead of raising his fist to knock, gave it a few weak kicks with the side of his foot. The muffled sound of at least a dozen locks clicking open brought Lúcio and Angela to share a similar nervous look but both were placated when Ana opened the door.

“Oh thank the heavens; you're back.” She sighed upon seeing the monk's student and stepped out of the way, ignoring the other two.

“Are they still fighting?”

“Yes. As soon as I get one to shut up the other starts again. It's like trying to stop two dogs from howling at the moon.”

Angela cleared her throat to try and get the alchemist's attention and the only acknowledgment she received was a strong hand grabbing her by the arm and practically dragging her through the door.

 The other side of the door revealed what looked to be a workshop. Torches lined the walls, casting short shadows down the cold walls. Long dining tables and short end desks had been modified into neatly kept workbenches and bore various alchemical tools and equipment. A shelf, about as well made as the false wall, spanned a large portion of the great room and housed a colourful array of potions and various ingredients.

A fireplace, yet another handmade creation, contained a sizable cast iron pot that was emitting a wonderful smell that made the witch's mouth water. Sticking up from the hot coals or laying with one bright white end in the fire and one end on the ground, iron tools were strewn about and looked very out of place next to the food.

At the back of the room and far from the scientific equipment, much more rudimentary tool sets could be seen. Anvils of varying sizes, barrels of rough and untouched metal stocks, unkempt tables of tongs and hammers, and an unlit forge were a stark contrast to the other half of the room.

Among the smithy tools and the only presentable thing, a rack held a motley of weapons from swords sharp by looks alone to sleekly polished guns. Resting in the center of the weapons and standing proudly on it's end, an all too familiar hammer became the focal point of Angela's vision.

From beside her, Ana began loudly reprimanding someone but her voice was lost to the sudden white noise in the witch's ears. The muffled voices were replaced with a high pitched ringing and she found herself walking towards the hammer.

The magnificent weapon glimmered in the torch light, one such glint curving around the spikes adorning the hammerhead and sending a phantom pain to Angela's side. There was no breeze in the room, but she was sure she could feel one left behind from the hammer's previous swing.

It was larger than herself by a great margin. How she survived a blow from it was beyond her. It should have killed her by all means. Any competent wielder would have taken her down in the one blow she received unless they weren't actually trying.

She paused at the thought and found her hand rising to touch the worn leather handle of the weapon.

_Was he actually trying to kill me? Did he fight with everything he had? Was he just old and worn down from battle or could he not bring himself to even try against me? Why would he do that? Did he know he was the wrong person, that he wasn't who I intended to kill? What kind of person were you, Wilhelm Reinhardt?_

The sword at her throat brought Angela back to herself and she narrowed her brows at the cool metal resting lightly against her skin.

“Don't you dare touch that!” A girl growled from behind her, the sword digging the tiniest bit more into her neck.

Ana appeared at the witch's side and took the blade firmly in her gloved hand to pull it away. Her face was tight and stern as she warned the sword's wielder, “Brigitte, either calm your hot head or I'll send you outside.”

“What?! How can-- how can you possibly defend her?! After everything she's done?!”

“I'm not defending her, I'm stopping you from making a mistake you will sorely regret.” The alchemist narrowed her brows further and warned again, “Brigitte. The sword.”

With a frustrated growl, the sword was wrenched away and Angela turned to face her attacker. The young woman stood taller than the blonde and gripped her weapon in an iron fist – literally. She wore a pristine suit of armor and carried both the sword and a heavy mace that looked to be almost as large as herself.

She turned on her heel and stalked away from the witch to slam her weapons on one of the tables, her armor rattle all the way. It wasn't until her hands were free that Angela realized the rattle was from her shaking in anger.

A finger was harshly pointed into the witch's chest as Brigitte sneered through clenched teeth, “You're lucky teacher was here to protect you. But the minute I get you alone, I'm going to find out what happens when you stick hot iron to a tongue. I'm willing to be it turns to bubbling, boiling fat in a matter of seconds--”

" _Brigitte._ ”

 The finger was yanked away and the young woman stalked away, swiping a hand across a table and sending the tools on it crashing to the floor. “Excuse the girl.” Ana muttered.

Angela glared after her and gave the alchemist a pointed look while saying, “I didn't expect you to invite a damn audience.”

The old woman sighed through her nose and returned the look with a much more weary one. “Brigitte is my apprentice and Reinhardt's former squire. It would have been hard to keep this from her; she doesn't leave the castle.” She looked away and added somberly, “She's the one who buried him. She's also the one who went and dug him back up.”

The feelings of sorrow and regret that reappeared were pushed back with a flare of rage that Angela let wash over herself. It was easier to let the anger take over than deal with everything she was feeling at the moment.

“I don't want her here.” She snapped while digging fingernails into the palms of her hands.

Ana laughed and coolly replied back, “Well, she doesn't want you here either. I suppose you'll both have to get over it.”

The witch was about to retort back when the armored girl barked out, “I told you to stop messing with my stuff!”

Floating beside a collection of jars holding different alchemical materials, Zenyatta ignored the warning and lifted a glass of dried leaves into the air to inspect. He tapped at the glass and subsequently made it's contents dance around, nodding along with the observation.

“Your elements are completely mundane.” He acknowledged to an enraged Brigitte, completely ignoring her red face and numerous attempts to swipe the jar away, “There is not a single shred of anything even pertaining to magic in these containers. How...disappointing.”

The monk set the glass down and stared into Angela's eyes with his own unblinking gaze. “I see you have decided to accept my help.”

“You are literally the most unhelpful being I have ever met.” She shot back.

Zenyatta chuckled and folded his hands in his lap. “I believe in the same principals that you do, Witch. You have just yet to properly ask for my help. Even now, you refuse to learn.” What little playfulness had been in his voice was gone as he said, “Ask graciously and correctly. Perhaps you will come to like my answer.”

From behind the monk, Lúcio pointed and mouthed 'is that him?' to the witch. She nodded and he slowly made a wide circle around the creature, whistling and choosing to observe the fireplace in an attempt at being nonchalant.

“Well then I'm afraid we're at an impasse. I've never done anything correctly or with grace in my life.” Angela placed her hands on her hips and asked, “Are you finished acting like you're better than me or are we going to compete in a full-blown pissing contest?”

“One cannot pretend to be what they already are, Witch.”

Angela rolled her eyes as she spoke and pulled her soak cloak off to toss to a chair. “You're pretentiousness is going to be the death of you, Zenyatta. And that's coming from the woman who practically embodies arrogance. Is there somewhere that we can talk privately? I'd like to go over the details first before everyone starts interjecting.”

Ana motioned towards a door at the back of the room with a wave of her hand. “That door will take you to a small hall with spare rooms. Take your pick and your time. I expect nothing short of perfection if you intend to perform this on my daughter.”

Zenyatta started towards the door and said while passing the witch, “I advise that you take a moment to collect yourself. Learning this spell will be hard on the mind and casting it will be increasingly harder on the body.”

“How charming that you can pretend to actually care about me.”

At the last second, she returned to her cloak and carefully untied Fareeha's hair adornment free. She rolled the metal in her hand and habitually found the worn groove in it's side to run her nail along.

Angela followed the creature and passed him to open the door. “I don't have a moment to waste. Let's get this over this.”

 The room they chose looked to be a storage space, cramped with shelves of extra tools and equipment but enough room for either party to comfortable sit apart from each other.

The witch clenched her fists tightly and cycled through her options as the monk stared her down. Everything Angela thought of led to the same outcome, the same awful conclusion. The fact that Zenyatta knew this made it much worse.

“ _Verdammt._ ” She said through clenched teeth.

A deep inhale through the nose wasn't enough to calm her but she squared her shoulders and said in defeat, “Name your price.”

As if the situation didn't already make her skin crawl, the tentacles raised slightly to reveal a row of sharp teeth in the most unsettling grin Angela had ever seen.

“At last, the infamous Witch of the Wilds is left to succumb to her own folly. A lesson in humility, long overdue. What I ask for is not much, nor something I think you'll disagree to.”

Angela shifted uncomfortably on her feet under his gaze but refused to hide away from his piercing eyes. Her knuckles were beginning to turn white from how tightly she had her fists clenched.

Zenyatta brought one of his glowing eyes from it's perch oscillating his head and let it float between his hands while saying, “The spell you are about to cast is both of light magic and dark magic. It, much like your lost love, lies somewhere in between. It won't cost you any form of magic to cast, so it shouldn't be too much to ask for that as payment for the spell.”

The witch blinked and nearly burst out laughing. “A-are you serious?” She asked instead, hoping that the trembling in her voice would be taken as more nerves and not laughter.

“Completely. Your magic is wild and uncontrollable – even to you. I wonder what would happen if I could hold that magic as my own.”

Angela finally laughed, cackling and slapping a hand across her face.

Did he realize that he couldn't receive such a thing? Did he even know that magic was linked entirely to your being, to your soul? How the hell Lucio had managed to understand this concept in only a night while Zenyatta was clueless made the situation all the more hilarious.

She was shaking slightly, her lips trembling in mirth as she said, “You know what? Take it! I don't need it anyway, not when I will have Fareeha.”

 _No,_ Angela smirked to herself, _but I'll have both anyway because this creature is an utter novice when it comes to making deals!_

“So desperate.” Zenyatta hummed, “So afraid. It's unbecoming of you, Witch. But then again, you have proven time and time again to have fallen so far from who you once were. You are weak now, beyond repair.”

He sent the orb gliding out to her while saying, “Touch the eye and it shall be sealed. But before you do, I will give you the curtsy of a warning. To cast this spell is to bring death upon yourself. As I said before, it won't take any magic to cast it. It will take your soul and you will die.”

The humor vanished from the room and the witch let her fists loosen.

“Don't get my hopes up.” She said flatly, unable to keep the overwhelming sense of failure away any longer and reaching for the orb.

 

 

“Just let me see the damn book!”

“No! It's not even my book! I have to get permission to open it! What are yo--- _HEY! Get off me!”_

Angela stood and listened to the loud arguing that came from behind the door. Her hand was resting atop the door knob but unable to open it due to the tremors that controlled her arm.

It felt like the flesh beneath her skin was boiling, ready to burst out and spatter to the ground like liquid fire. Deep beneath the flesh and tissue, the sinew between her bones was pulsating in a rapid pattern up to her shoulder and causing a knot to form in the center of her back. In her other hand, her hold on the golden bulb was loose and close to dropping it.

When she finally found the strength to turn the door knob and open the door, she nearly fell through it. Catching herself at the last second and now hunched over the door, the witch raised her head slowly in hopes that no one noticed her flailing.

Thankfully, Lúcio and Brigitte were at the other side of the room and still arguing. Lúcio lay stuck on his stomach and clutching something to his chest with Brigitte sitting atop his back and reaching to steal whatever he had.

Genji sat at one of the tables near to them with a light pink teacup, watching them from beneath the brim of his hat but not bothering to move to aid either.

The only person who noticed her entering and her fall was the old woman who was briskly walking to her and hoisting her upright. Ana gripped her burning arm tightly and immediately loosened her grip when Angela whimpered at the touch. If the witch's mind wasn't swimming with pain she would think that the alchemist wore an expression of worry but her vision was so blurry that it could have been any range of emotion.

Lúcio finally noticed her and doubled his efforts to free himself. “Teacher!” He grunted with effort, “She wants to see your spell book! I told her I'm not allowed to--”

“Let me read the book, Witch!” Brigitte demanded while brushing hair from her face, “There are spells in there that are able to heal the sick and rebind the wounded! Ana told me so! I have to know those spells!”

Angela made a face at the armored girl and started to weakly snark back when her student interrupted, “She's got magic! It's weak like mine was—”

“My magic is nothing like yours, you anemic son of a–!”

“–and I can barely feel it! But Granny said that she–!”

The witch turned her attention to the alchemist and asked with agitation, “Why the hell do they all get to call you 'Granny' but I don't?”

Ana scoffed and retorted, “Did that creature sap your brain from your skull or are you naturally this much of an airhead?”

“I'm...actually very light-headed.” Angela admitted and slowly moved to a nearby chair. “I don't feel well at all. Like I'm going to faint...”

Oblivious to the what the two women were saying, Lúcio yelped as Brigitte managed to yank on of his arms behind his back and pull at it painfully. Seated and now feeling a headache forming behind her forehead, Angela flicked a finger up and sent the armored girl sliding backwards onto the floor.

Lúcio sat up in victory and tugged the spell book tighter to his chest, only deflating when the witch called for him to open the book.

“I'm sure, Lúcio.” She said while rubbing circles into her eyelids, “That book has become more yours than mine at this point. In fact, it is yours. Consider it a mastery gift.”

He gaped from the book to her and spoke slowly. “But...I'm not finished learning yet. I still haven't mastered any practical magic and my healing capabilities are sub-par at best...why are you giving this to me?”

Angela rested her chin on the back of her knuckles and hummed, “Because you're nearly there. Why wait when I can give it to you now? That book is everything I know save for the dark magic that I removed from it's pages. You can learn from it just as easily as you can learn from me.”

“It sounds like you're saying good-bye.” Lúcio murmured while staring at the book wistfully.

She chuckled lightly and said with a half-smile, “I won't be here to teach you for forever you know. Accept the gift and move along, Lúcio. You're reading too much into things.”

Lucio looked to Angela with misty eyes and seemed ready to argue but was stopped by Brigitte grabbing the book and tugging it from his hands. He snapped his mouth shut and opened the cover, turning it's pages slowly while explaining it's order of contents to the young woman.

The two sank back to the floor with the book before them and sat shoulder to shoulder as they muttered and spoke lowly to one another, Lúcio pointing at certain things on occasion while Brigitte nodded along sagely.

Angela couldn't help but shake her head and smile at the two. “Barely a minute ago they were fighting like foxes over a dead hen and now they're acting civil. That boy never ceases to amaze me.”

The alchemist said nothing. She only stared at the witch with a hard look and folded her arms across her chest. Her brow had pinched deep in thought and a gloved hand was brought a few inches from the blonde's face.

“Your nose is red and your eyes are swollen. And just a moment ago the loose hold on your arm was enough to pain you. You seem nearly delirious. What did that creature do to you?”

The witch flinched at the question and shivered. A splitting pain just behind her forehead greeted her upon merely remembering what it was like learning the spell, the sudden rush of information straight to her brain both addicting and miserable.

It also reminded her of Zenyatta's warning and Angela felt a hollow spot form in the highest center of her chest.

“Ana,” She started, unable to stop herself from lowering her voice to a whisper in fear that the others would hear and unable to keep her voice from cracking, “can I talk to you? Alone?”

The old woman dropped her hand and jerked her head towards the back of the room. Angela stood on shaky legs and was surprised when Ana offered an arm to take. Hesitant but grateful, the blonde loosely took hold and gasped when her knees suddenly locked and buckled beneath her.

A light tug brought her back to her feet and Ana took a careful step forward, eyeing the witch as they slowly walked past Brigitte's forge and tools. Angela was unable to keep her eyes off the great hammer as they passed it and had to bite her lip to keep unwanted tears from spilling.

Hidden behind a ornately woven cloth and locked with a key in Ana's pocket, a door on the back wall creaked open for them and quietly closed. The secret room was no larger than a broom closet, which it very well may have been, but had been made into a bedroom.

A single bed snugly pressed into the wall with very little walking space between it and a large chest took up a majority of the floor. The walls were covered in shelves of books or trinkets, beautiful paintings and maps, and hanging clothing.

Angela found herself being sat on the bed and Ana moved to sit on the chest across from her, hands on her knees and eyes narrowed. They stared at each other silently for quite some time before the alchemist cocked a brow and said, “Well?”

The witch felt small under the old woman's gaze and visibly squirmed. She struggled to slow her racing mind or calm her nerves, struggled to find the correct way to articulate what she needed to say. With a sharp inhale and a shaky speech in mind, Angela began speaking strongly and hoped she wouldn't promptly break.

“I learned the spell. It's simple, it shouldn't take long to complete. But it comes at a higher price than most magic.” Blue eyes met a single brown and the witch sighed out, “It's very likely that bringing Reinhardt back will result in my death.”

“Then don't die.” Ana said bluntly. She rose to her feet and started towards the door, leaving Angela behind to gape at her.

She snatched the alchemist's hand and pulled her back, anger replacing the hollow and her lips curling into a snarl. “I'm not finished! And even if I were, it's not that easy! I have to pay with my soul in order to cross into the veil where he rests! If I bring him back there is a chance I can't do the same for Fareeha, you dense old hag!”

“And?” The hand was wrenched from the witch's grip and Ana moved to the door while saying, “You say that there is a _chance_ , that such an outcome is _very likely._ Make sure that it stays the worst possible outcome and avoid it at all costs.”

Angela growled in frustration and stood too, nearly hitting her head on a shelf as she angrily snapped, “Yes, because it's so fucking easy to just say something and then do it! You aren't listening to me! I can't--”

“No, _you_ aren't listening to _me_.”

Ana turned on her heel and pushed the witch back gingerly at the shoulder. A finger was pointed in Angela's face as the old woman harshly said, “You've wasted time by asking to speak to me, so stop with the faff and speak what's on your damn mind. I can't tell you what you want to hear unless you give me direction. So I'll ask again – and I'll even elaborate since you're so ignorant – well? What's wrong?”

The witch deflated and awkwardly clasped her hands together. They took up a tense wringing and Angela returned to sit on the bed again heavily. The gold adornment rolled carefully against her palms and gave her the strength to speak. “What if I can't do it?” She quietly asked without looking up, “What if I can't bring him back, or if I do die?”

She hesitantly looked to the alchemist for a response. Ana sighed through her nose and returned to sit atop the chest, folding her arms across her chest and nodding for the witch to continue.

“If I fail, what happens? What becomes of this kingdom? Do you and Brigitte mourn for a dead man again? Where does Lúcio go, who will watch over him? What happens to Fareeha?” Angela gripped the hair bead tightly and let her voice crack as she whispered, “I just want to see Fareeha again.”

She quickly wiped away the tears that were close to falling and she laughed humorlessly, “I never thought it was possible to find someone who could care for me like she did. After my parents...no one ever stayed. I always thought it was better that way, but Fareeha fought her way in and refused to leave. And now, just like them, she's gone and it's all my fault.”

Angela kept her head low and didn't look up, fearing that if she did the tears would reform. A shake in her shoulders began instead and her fingernails dug into the gold bulb as she spoke. “I want to do the right thing here. I do seek redemption, but I can't help but feel that ugly part of me resurfacing. The part of me that wants to run and hide and be selfish.”

“And now that the offer is presenting itself to me after all of these godforsaken years, I don't think I want to die. I don't want to face the innocent man I murdered. I don't want any of this. I want to burn this place and never return, to run away like I always have. I'm a coward and I'm only just now realizing it.”

Neither spoke past that. Angela put her head in her hands and waited for Ana's inevitable unhelpful input. But it never came.

It made her fidget uncomfortably. She had always been quick to voice her opinion before, why now was she strangely quiet? It was as irritating as it was distressing and Angela was about to voice her frustrations when Ana finally spoke.

“I hate you more than words can say.”

The witch rolled her eyes and grit her teeth, ready for whatever round of the usual berating would bring. The old woman sighed but didn't let any of her previous malice show. It was strange to see her so calm, eerie almost. The last time Angela had seen her in such a state was right before she shot her.

“I hate you for everything you've done. But I hate you even more because every time I look at you it's like I'm looking in a mirror.”

The blonde paused, her anger slipping away and her head rising to meet Ana's gaze.

“We're very similar, you and I. We've both made mistakes, haven't we? Mistakes that cost us those closest to us: family, lovers, friends. And now you've reached that horrible state where you realize just how ungrateful you've been to the life you've had.”

Ana stared deeply into Angela's eyes and said, “You're scared, and for the first time you can admit it. You're lost and confused, unsure whether or not it's worth it to do the 'right' thing – or if this path is even the 'right' thing altogether.”

She reached up and slowly unwound her headscarf as she spoke. Angela, unsure if she should look or not, awkwardly dropped her gaze back to her lap and listened.

“I was a soldier, a very good one. When I was summoned to fight in the Holy War, I proudly accepted. I didn't think about what would become of my daughter leading up to and during my leave. I was taught to put my country first and being a good soldier, I did. I didn't get to see Fareeha grow up. That is one of my many regrets, but not the thing I regret the most.”

“I lost many men during my time as a captain, made and buried good friends. One day, in the midst of battle, a single stray bullet pierced my skull and removed my eye. I was thought dead by my comrades and left behind-- you can look, Angela.”

It caught her off guard, the use of her name. Slowly, uncertainly, she lifted her head to view Ana and couldn't stop her gasp at the sight before her.

Snowy white hair rested in a neatly made braid adorned with the tiniest golden baubles, thick scars that traced along and into her hairline marring her skin. What truly caught Angela's attention was what the eye patch had previously been concealing.

The eye, or rather the socket, was completely hollow. There was nothing but blank space, a black void surrounded by dead tissue and ghastly scars. The flesh looked to have never healed properly and had been stained an unnatural white where the skin had macerated. As she blinked with her remaining eye, the socket would contract ever so slightly in an attempt to copy the motion.

Now it was Ana's turn look away, her face full of remorse as she continued. “Because of my accident, we lost one of our major outposts and with it thousands of lives. I should have died that day. But fate is cruel and unkind. I was stranded behind enemy lines and mistaken as an injured civilian. I had a choice: I could be peddled further away from my home and deeper into unknown territory with a chance to take them out from within or I could try to fight my way back home.”

“I know the answer is obvious; the shame of it cuts deeper than any knife. I lost sight, literally, of what was important. I forgot that I was a mother before I was a soldier, and I convinced myself that it was better if I stayed dead.”

She leaned back and rested her head against the wall, closing her eye and murmuring, “I thought I was saving Fareeha from the harsh reality of war, protecting her even. That one selfish choice, the decision of a coward who felt like she needed redemption in the form of a body count, is my greatest regret. I should have come home to her; she was waiting for me...and I abandoned her.”

Angela bit her lip to keep it from quivering when Ana reopened her eye and gave her a half-smile. “And looking at you, all I can see is that selfish coward that I was and still am. A person so broken inside that they're willing to burn the world around them and everyone with it. But I also see the scared child that was left behind.”

“You are the result of being abandoned, of having the world against you and no one there to convince you otherwise. Through these months of traveling, I've come to understand why Fareeha chose you. You are both haunted by the avarice of your parents and left suffering because of them.”

The blonde hoarsely whispered, “But my parents weren't selfish...they died because of me. I both directly and indirectly killed them.”

“It doesn't matter what you think lead to it, what does is the hole it left inside of you that has festered. But I implore you, beg you even, to not let yourself rot because of it. I won't stand idly by and let that shell of a person, let that coward hiding inside you, ruin everything you've come to be.”

Angela opened her mouth to argue but found herself being shushed by a harsh look. “You cannot make the same mistake I did: you cannot abandon her. She's waiting for you.”

Ana sat forward and took the witch's hand. “People make mistakes, Angela, and it's okay to hurt because of them. You have to let go of the past. Honour it and the mistakes of those before you, but move onward.”

Refusing to let the fresh tears in her eyes fall, the witch twitched her lips up into a sullen smile and asked, “Am I a monster?”

“No.” Ana said without hesitating. She moved from her perch to sit beside Angela on the bed and placed a hand around her shoulder, pulling her down to rest her head in her lap. “You aren't a monster, Angela. You're afraid and still mourning unhealed wounds. Now cry.”

“What?”

The sudden demand caught her off-guard almost as much as the gentle fingers that began brushing through her hair. Angela glanced up at the alchemist cautiously from where she lay and wasn't ready to hear her usual snap after such an emotional conversation.

“Did I stutter? Cry. _Now_. Sob like a child, stop holding yourself back. You'll feel better. Now cry before I give you something much less mentally traumatic and much more physically painful to cry about.”

Oddly enough, there weren't any tears anymore. Her eyes were completely dry. Angela narrowed her brows and debated if she should fake them in order to keep the old woman from barking at her again or if she should continue lying there.

As if sensing her hesitation, Ana doubled her efforts in stroking the witch's head and said with a light laugh, “I remember when Fareeha was young, she lost all four of her front teeth at the same time. I worried she would be hurt by the other children making fun of her, but to my surprise she enjoyed how it made people laugh. Watching her try to eat was my favorite spectator sport.”

Angela scoffed at first but gradually began giggling at the mental image of a young Fareeha. “She's always making the stupidest jokes. For someone who seems so serious on the outside, she's a very happy person. I like that quality about her very much.”

“I'm glad to hear it. It's what her name means after all. Have you decided on a name for your child yet?”

“I want to name him after her.”

Heat rushed to her face and the tears returned as Angela choked out, “In case she doesn't come back.”

It felt like she was crying for hours. Harsh sobs shaking her body, her face sore and lungs burning from tense hiccups. Throughout it all, Ana stayed with her and ran comforting hands in her hair, across her back, down her side.

At some point, the blonde sat up and held her hands out to Ana to reveal Fareeha's golden hair bead. “It was hers.” She whimpered out. “She always had them in.”

The alchemist's eyes watered and she sniffed while taking it. She held it up to view and chuckled sadly, “She still wore them? I gave these to her just before I left. And she kept them after all this time...oh Fareeha, you sentimental fool.”

They sat shoulder to shoulder and wept. Ana turned her head away as she bawled while Angela wailed into her shoulder. Both had a hand holding the adornment, wishing that they could hold onto it's owner.

When they eventually quieted, the witch pushed her hair behind an ear and attempted to wipe her nose.

“Ana, would you do me a favor?”

“I thought your shtick was deals, not favors.” The old woman snorted.

Angela smirked in return and sniffled, “Then a deal. I'll give you Fareeha's hair bulb in exchange.”

The look she received was shockingly sympathetic as Ana said, “You don't have to do that, Angela.”

“No, I insist. She'd want you to have it.”

The object in question was pushed into gloved hands and Angela smiled at the soul binding script on her own hand. “What is it you wish?” Ana asked with a curious glint in her eye.

The witch sighed through her nose and snickered to herself at the silly request. “Not wish. Only a request for a very mundane service. Would you cut my hair?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, it's been a while. Sorry for the wait, I hope it's well worth it. Now, I realize I said this would be the last chapter but...it's too long to be just one chapter. I won't make any promises as to when the second half will be posted because I tend to randomly vanish for long periods of time, but here's to hoping it won't be another month. 
> 
> Sorry for any errors. I need sleep.


	7. Unwavering Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The witch stared at the pile of ash left behind and grit her teeth, another bout of anger rising higher and higher in her chest. “How sad is it that it took me this long to realize how wrong I was? To realize that I am evil? And all it took was one single woman with the stupid idea to love me.”

_She was dying._

_It was the only rational thought Fareeha was capable of forming._

_Stuck perpetually drowning on nothing, of losing all feeling in her body, of deafening silence, had destroyed the last of her will._

_She was giving up._

_There was no way for her to escape this hell. The void was endless. There was no way out of the void. There was nothing in the void, only her crumbling mind and decaying body._

_She wished for an end._

_Death would be a better fate than this. Anything would be better._

_Whatever or whoever Fareeha had struggled for couldn't be recalled. At this point, she could barely remember her own name._

_What started as a mantra to remember it all and stave off the madness had done nothing but call it closer. Words slowly faded away until she could no longer recognize them. Her reality was slipping away._

_'I am Fareeha Amari, and I am still here. I am in love with Angela. I am a knight. I'm from...from...'_

_As another piece vanished, the flame in her chest reignited and the darkness pulled her in deeper. It spread out through her body, consuming her head in a searing pain and erasing whatever memory she had forgotten completely._

_Fighting through the pain, she grit her teeth and began again._

_'I am Fareeha Amari, and I am still here. I am in love with Angela. I am a knight. I am Fareeha Amari, and I am still here. I am in love with Angela. I am a...what am I? A knight! I am a knight! I am a knight, and I am still-- no...how does it start?'_

_When the smoldering formed in her chest, Fareeha panicked and begged it to stop, to give her time to remember._

_'No wait! I remember! I am Fareeha Amari, and I am still here! I am in love with Angela. I...am in love with Angela. No, no, no! What else? There was more! No, damn it!'_

_The merciless void torched the memory and started another fire in preparation for the next._

_It wasn't fair. She could remember. She just needed a moment, just a moment. But the void wouldn't give her one, so she couldn't dwell on it._

_'I am Fareeha Amari, and I am still here. I am in love with Angela. I am Fareeha Amari, and I am still here. I am in love with Angela.'_

_'I am still here. I am in love with...'_

_The pain flared up again, but this time Fareeha contorted her muted body in protest. She refused to let it take anything else, whatever was left of her mind could not be lost._

_'Angela! I love Angela! I am in love with Angela! My name is--! M-my name...'_

_She ceased her struggling, allowing the burn to take over her body and erase. She let the void's frozen atmosphere seize her body willingly, allowed herself to be dragged down further into it's hold._

_She was dying._

_'Angela...'_

_She was giving up._

_'...I love you...'_

_She wished for an end._

_'...please hurry...'_

_Who was she again?_

 

 

 

_Snip._

_Snip._

_Sn--_

“Are you sure you want it this short?”

_Snip._

“I'm sure. If it can't be tied back it's alright. It's just a preference that I can.”

Ana hummed in acknowledgment and cut another lock, pausing to study her work and whisper to herself in an unfamiliar tongue. The language was very similar to the one Fareeha used to speak in, but was different enough that Angela couldn't understand what she was saying aside from the very contemplative tone it was said in.

Hesitantly, she tried to give the older woman a backwards glance and asked slowly, “You...have done this before, right?”

“Of course! I used to cut Fareeha's hair all the time, taught her to cut her own even.”

“I once watched Fareeha accidentally cut off half of her bangs while trying to trim them,” Angela said flatly, “so please know that you telling me that does not make me any more comfortable.”

The cackle that followed caused the blonde to jolt in surprise and led to a hard smack to the back of the neck. Ana gripped the back of her head tightly and tilted her up while once again chastising her, “Stop squirming. If I take off your ear I'm not sewing it back on.”

They resumed their silence, tinged with awkwardness that neither would admit or deny. The sound of the scissors clipping away at the witch's hair tried to remedy it, but couldn't erase their red eyes and aching chests.

What annoyed Angela the most was the lack of a proper mirror in the room. Only a small hand mirror had been produced from the chest and Ana refused to give it to her. Her nerves and anxiety were working overtime as she was stuck feeling and, very rarely, seeing wispy strands of hair sliding away.

The running commentary Ana was trying to provide to break the awkward silence wasn't helping either.

“I can understand why you keep it short. You have hair like a shepherd's dog. Very thick and heavy. Very...I can't find the word in this language. Like clouds. How they sort of... _oosh_...”

“Poofy?” Angela provided weakly.

Ana clicked her tongue in approval. “Yes, thank you. _Poofy_ , your hair is very _poofy_.”

A few more generous clips and the scissors were set down, thin fingers pulling blonde hair back in an attempt to put it up. After many attempts at gather all of the strands, the fingers retreated and came into view holding the hand mirror.

Strangely excited and holding her breath, Angela took the mirror and held it up.

Her hair was definitely shorter. In fact, if she were properly recalling how long she kept it a year ago it it was shorter than even that. The tie holding it back looked comical, the small fluff of hair sticking up from it adding to it immensely.

“Well?” Ana asked, the mirror moving to catch a glimpse of the older woman with her hands on her hips, “To your liking?”

The mirror shifted back to the witch's face and she carefully brushed her bangs back in an attempt to tuck them behind an ear. When they proved to be too short, she bit her lip and debated asking for them to be removed completely.

Taking a few more moments to study the new style, Angela set the hand mirror down and turned to look at Ana. The smile that formed on her lips, genuine and appreciative, was met with a similar one.

“Very much so. Thank you, Ana.”

The smile was then wiped from the alchemist's lips and a frown replaced it, her brows furrowing tightly and her lone eye reflecting an almost pained expression. “You've given me the child's name, but what about it's fate?”

As Angela raised an eyebrow in confusion the old woman gently asked, “If you are to die, what do you want to become of your child?”

She froze and stared at Ana with wide eyes as the wind was knocked out of her, both taken aback and stupefied that she hadn't thought about it until now. When she could breathe and move again, her hands came to rest atop her swollen stomach and a new panic set in.

“I-I don't know.” Angela weakly admitted, feeling the impending tears and former hysteria close to taking over. “If I'm gone and Fareeha doesn't...oh god...this was a mistake. ”

Her hands reached out to grab Ana's tightly and her voice broke as she pleaded, “What do I do? Please, Ana, what do I do? There has to be something; I can't bring it into this world just to abandon it.”

“Slow down, take a deep breath. It doesn't have to be abandoned or grow alone.” Ana shook her head as she said, “I don't expect you to entrust it with me, especially after I told you how worthless of a mother I was and our general distrust of each other. What about Lúcio? That boy would pull the moon from the sky for you.”

The witch paused and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand as she thought. The hesitation in her voice was clear as she spoke. “I trust Lúcio with my life. He's an exceptional man and the pinnacle of kindness. He's everything I wish I could be and more...but this is too much to ask of him.”

“Talk to him.” Ana said while approaching the door, “You need to tell him that you may not come back from this. He deserves to know.”

“He deserves better than this. All of this.” Angela couldn't help her sorry smile as she mentioned, “He's the one who called me a monster. I don't think he realized it in the moment but...he wasn't wrong to say it.”

The alchemist fished around her trouser pocket while saying, “Perhaps he wasn't. But _you_ are wrong to believe it. Sure, you are many things. A witch, a healer, a demon, an angel, an immature child, a grieving woman, a lost soul. But before all of that, you are human. And above even that...”

Fareeha's hair bead was held up in the air as Ana declared, “...you are Angela. You only have to separate yourself from all of those things that you think you are. Then perhaps you can see yourself as Fareeha sees you: as someone worthy of life.”

“Ana, after everything I've done how can I possibly be--”

“Stop looking at the past. You'll only trip over your own feet.”

The tight look Ana gave her slowly softened and she stated, “You still aren't letting yourself grieve, Angela. I can only help you so much; you have to decide to make the leap yourself. Is there anything else you want to say to me?”

Biting her lip and looking away, Angela exhaled through her nose sharply and said in a rush, “It was suppose to be Fareeha. She wanted the baby – wanted to start a family.” The sudden laugh that escaped her throat came out choked and she clarified, “Fareeha was the one who was suppose to carry.”

At this, the old woman looked away with a pinched brow, her expression that unsettling neutral it usually was. Trying to somehow make the situation right, Angela floundered uselessly and admitted, “I should have never met her. It was a mistake to lov-- to be with her. It's all my fault and I'm so sorry, Ana--”

“Accept what happened to you.” Their eyes met again and the witch held her breath at the tears collecting in the alchemist's eye. Despite the overwhelming sadness, her voice was strong as she said, “Don't dwell on what you've lost or fear what might have been. Don't deny yourself the right to feel love and be loved in return. Don't do what I did. Break the cycle; find that new beginning and a way to heal.”

The door opened and she added with a backwards glance, “Take some time to collect yourself. When you're ready...we'll get started.” The glance became a hard stare and a finger was pointed at the blonde as Ana sternly said, “Remember what I said, Angela. Make sure death remains the worst possible outcome. Fareeha is waiting for you.”

Left alone in silence, Angela stared at the closed door and waited.

She wasn't sure what it was she was waiting on or why she didn't just exit the room with Ana, but something kept her rooted to the bed.

Her initial instinct was to bury her head in her hands and cry again, but a flush of anger refused to let the tears fall. It was decided that she had shed enough tears for today, possibly for this lifetime, and that no more would come.

In her sudden fury, Angela stood from the bed and balled her hands into tight fists. The burn of unexplained wrath brought a boil to her stomach that rose rapidly through her chest and to her head. It made her eyes scorch and at first it was mistaken for more unwanted tears.

When her hands ignited with the arcane, she realized it was the magic within her swirling to dangerous heights and limits. It had been so long since she had felt such a control over it that it no longer felt natural or familiar.

So much pent up bitterness and rage that had been shoved aside returned all at once and made her chest heave. A combination of causes were racing through her mind, all too fast to exactly describe and pinpoint but all accumulating into more and more fuel for witch's fire.

She was angry that she had cried. She was angry that she was here. She was angry that she may die. Was angry that her child may not have a good life. Was angry that Lúcio may have to mourn her.

Angry that there may be people who mourn her death. Angry that she herself refused to mourn anything. Angry that she felt like this. Angry that everything began because of her.

Such intense magic threatened to explode at any second, but Angela refused to let it.

Recalling what had happened back in Lúcio's village brought it all to a screeching halt. It was as if she could see, feel, hear, and smell the rot of death around her.

The blindness of her possible rampage was cured with the memory of how Horus lay dying, foaming at the mouth as his life was forcibly drained from his body by the witch. Of how Ana gasped for air that was brutally denied her. How it took Lúcio's words and feelings to stop the raging storm.

More memories were revived along with it: memories of hot summers spent in wheat fields, of gentle hands and melodious laughs, of open arms and loving words.

Of a mother who still smiled despite of the flames eating away at her body and of a father who still wept despite being cold from death for hours. Of a crown prince who stood aside and watched women scream for mercy with no remorse.

The violent images and memories that brought about the anger were shoved aside and a mantra filled their place. A single phrase, repeated over and over to herself, that subdued the arcane within her back down to nothing.

_I will not be a monster._

New memories filled their place: memories of lovely nights with purple skies, of heated passion and words of devotion, of warm arms and safety in words. Of terrible jokes and mundane conversation. Of soft music and wide grins.

They all brought her back to a single place that she could see clearly behind closed eyes.

An open field, neatly encased by trees at the center of a dense wood, and the dilapidated cottage at it's center.

_Home._

A haven of safety that waited patiently for the witch and the wanderer. And now, waiting safely in it's hold, the wanderer slept soundly until the witch would return to rouse her.

Deeply exhaling to expel the tension clutching her body, Angela opened her eyes again and let her fists uncurl.

There was no more time to waste, no more anger, and no more uncertainty.

 _Life will be fairer for you, more than it was for me. These dreams I have of a better life will all become real someday._ A hand came to rest atop her stomach as the witch somberly thought, _Even though I will die before that day comes, I will make sure that for you they will dawn._

The door opened silently and Angela stepped back into the work room in time to watch something race past her through the air. Her eyes couldn't keep up with the glowing object and so she gave up to instead view the two sources of the magic.

Brigitte and Lúcio stood snickering at whatever they had enchanted, watching it rebound off the walls in as much satisfaction as amusement. The young man pointed a finger up and the thing came to a halt, revealing itself to be a large metal ball that promptly fell to the ground with a resounding _BOOM_.

“Teacher!” Lúcio frantically waved her over while excitedly saying, “Did you see that?! I managed to levitate a sixty-eight pound ball of pure steel and didn't even break a sweat!”

A light punch to the shoulder knocked him slightly off kilter as Brigitte added, “And just who made that ball of steel, eh? Besides, I made it go faster than you; you're seriously gonna gloat about _that?_ ”

The witch blinked between the two and their smiles quickly faded. Lúcio cautiously asked, “Is everything okay, Angela? You're giving off a really weird energy.”

Behind the two, Ana sat at the same table Genji hadn't moved from and poured him a fresh cup of tea. They locked eyes momentarily, a silent reminder of what had been discussed.

Despite the serious look and the knowledge that she should talk to her student, Angela lifted her gaze and said with a half-smile, “I'm fine, Lúcio. The baby's just restless, is all. Nothing to worry about.”

He nodded and said with a grin, “That sounds like Lúcio Jr alright! He's tough! A real fighter.”

“Unlike you.” Brigitte scoffed while giving him a playful shove, the two dissolving into a heated bout of banter.

Angela cleared her throat to gain their attention and walked closer to observe the steel ball. “You made this, Brigitte? Is your magic limited to manipulating physical objects into new things or do you prefer it?”

The armored young woman tensed visibly and didn't try to hide her sneer as she muttered, “It's how I got my start and is the most familiar, so what? We can't all turn ourselves into birds and murder innocent people.”

“I suppose not. I was just thinking of how practical such a skill is.” She turned to motion to the smithy tools and mused, “No wonder your weapons are so well made. It would have taken a skilled blacksmith decades of practice and yet you've done it in...how old are you, again?”

“I never said.” Brigitte shifted from foot to foot and her glare hardened, “And I don't want your worthless praise. You want to know where I learned to make weapons? Why don't you ask the man you murdered?”

Angela sighed before saying, “Yes, I suppose I will have to. If you'd be willing, would you take me to him? I believe we've stalled long enough.” She then said with a sympathetic smile, “Perhaps you and Reinhardt can tell me together.”

Brigitte clenched her fists and stormed past the witch, knocking her shoulder as she went and growling under her breath, “I wasn't talking about Reinhardt.”

Lúcio took Angela's hand before she could follow and said with puzzlement, “I can't figure out what it is I'm feeling right now. Specifically from you. Are you sure you're okay? You can talk to me.”

The smile she forced nearly broke and it proved difficult to lie through her teeth to the young man as she said, “I'm sure, Lúcio. Worry about yourself for once; you've done enough for me. Just remember what I've told you and...move on. Please.”

He stared after her and her cryptic message but didn't argue or follow.

The two left through the sealed door and false wall, walking towards the exit of the castle in total silence. Just before reaching the hole where the great doors had fallen, Brigitte turned to the wall and touched her fingers to it.

The stones shifted apart loudly to reveal a new hallway, this one unlit and as dark as night. Angela picked a piece of the splintered doors from the ground and ripped an already torn piece of canvas from a fading painting on the wall.

To the young woman's chagrin, the canvas was then wrapped around the wood and ignited with a small spark into a glowing torch. The witch cocked an eyebrow at the look and said, “It's not like it was being looked at anyway.”

They moved into the darkness side by side, every footstep echoing off the empty walls and eerie whispers surrounding them.

Eager to ease herself and possibly stop the hair on her arms from standing on end, Angela slowly asked, “So...were you having fun with Lúcio?”

“Are you trying to set me up with that smiling idiot?” Brigitte immediately scoffed, “I have absolutely no interest in that chicken-headed ninny. He's too damn happy anyway.”

“I didn't mean anything of the sort. I was only asking if you were enjoying his company. You two seemed to be in high spirits just then.”

Angela cast the young woman and sideways glance and confessed, “I worry about him. He's experienced so much hate for who he is and yet his heart remains too big for his chest. I suppose what I'm trying to say is that it's nice to see him find a friend who understands what he's been through.”

“And what makes you think I know what he's been through?” Brigitte snapped, “Or that he knows what I've been through? Because of _you_.”

“I know!” The blonde snarled back. Taking a deep breath to ease herself, she tried again, this time much more calm. “I understand your point, Brigitte, and I know that there's no forgiveness to be had or given. I don't expect any. I just want to make this right anyway that I can, for as many people as I can.”

Brigitte's laugh bounced off the empty walls and into the abyss surrounding them, creating an eerie chorus that never seemed to end. The rush of fear from the noise coupled with the creepy hallway brought the arcane back into the witch's hands only to be forcibly quenched.

“When Ana said you were an arrogant bitch, I honestly wasn't expecting you to be anything like this! To make such a bold claim after every _awful_ thing you've done is hubris in it's purest form!” The young woman cackled, stopping in her tracks and strangely solemn. The humor in her voice was gone as she asked, “Tell me, do you remember the people guarding the door that night?”

Angela came to a halt a few paces behind the armored woman and lowered her head in shame. “I try not to remember that night at all.” She said truthfully, “But yes, I do. An unnamed viking, Amélie-- Countess Lacroix, and Zenyatta with Genji. All arrived just before midnight.”

“The other three arrived before midnight. But he had been here for days.”

Shadows cast by the torch twisted and churned as if they were alive, creeping around the source of light and seeming to wrap around the armor that reflected it. A nearly minuscule motion turned Angela's head to look at the wall where she thought she saw something move, but proved to have been nothing but a trick of the light.

Despite her curled fists and clamoring armor due to them, Brigitte spoke in an oddly even voice. “He left days earlier to try and persuade Reinhardt to leave the kingdom. He just wanted him to leave for the night, that's all he wanted. Just one damn night. But Reinhardt's as stubborn as he is old...and so was Papa.”

The witch whipped her head around at another hint of movement and tried to swallow her fear. Whatever else was with them was hiding among the shadows. “Brigitte--” Angela tried to warn.

Something snapped out of the darkness and wrapped around Angela's leg, pulling tight like rope and forcing her to take a step backwards. She cursed and lowered the torch to observe it, but as the light drew closer the thing seemed to wane and vanish. The pressure grew and so did the attacker when the torch drew away.

It clicked. Angela snapped her head up to once again warn Brigitte but promptly clamped her jaw tight at the sight before her now.

The shadows, wriggling like a thousand angry souls, stretched across the walls, ceiling and floor in erratic motions. They all grew from one point, all returned to one source: Brigitte.

 _She's not limited to just physical objects with her manipulation style of magic...verdammt._ Angela thought, forcing herself not to react as more of the darkness coiled around her body.

_She's going to kill me._

“You didn't even know his name. Name's are important things to you, aren't they? So I guess I'll be doing you favor when I tell you that his name was Torbjörn Lindholm! He was a friend to both Reinhardt and Ana, an adventurer, the greatest blacksmith in the world! He was _a hero!_ ”

Brigitte turned slowly to stare back at Angela, her teeth bared as she said, “And I am Brigitte Lindholm! The daughter of the man you didn't even know the name of! Of the man you murdered and threw away like _garbage!_ ”

The binds squeezed her painfully, one such shadowy hand snaking up to curl around her throat.

“I'll give enough time to pray to whatever God you think will help you. But I doubt any would even give you some much as a sideways glance!”

“You're being rash!” Angela squirmed, trying to angle the torch lower to dispel the shadows. “If you kill me now Reinhardt won't be brought back! Isn't that what you want?”

“Why?” Brigitte took a step closer and the shadows coiled more tightly, “Why does it matter if he comes back? His kingdom's fallen, his people slaughtered! What the hell is left for him here?!”

It was becoming harder to breathe and speak by the second. The witch knew deep down that she could escape all of this with one easy spell, one simple command to blow the girl's chest open to spatter against the walls.

But she refused.

Instead she choked out, “Y-you...are still he-here! An-na too! He's...he's w-waiting for you...”

“Waiting for what?!” Brigitte yelled, “He's dead! What good does waiting do for him?! Do you know what waiting does for the living? It takes! I waited! I waited for Papa to return and what the hell did that get me, huh?!”

“Yo-you're hurting...” Angela gasped out, her eyes watering from the lack of air and her head growing lighter by the second, “..I k-know. But thi-is...won't h-help...Bri--”

The shadowy hand around her throat clenched tighter as the young woman screeched, “ _Shut up! Just shut up!_ ”

Tears crested down her cheeks and Brigitte said through gritted teeth, “I hate you so much. So fucking much that I don't care anymore! Escape like I know you can and kill me! There's nothing left for me! I'm better off being with them – being dead in the ground!”

The torch dropped from the witch's hands, her ears ringing loudly and her stomach churning violently. Angela gasped for air, acutely aware of the saliva she was spitting in her failed attempts to breathe again. Her fingers twitched of their own accord, her lips moving in a silent prayer.

“ _P-placere...a...adi-uva..._ ” Angela faintly whispered.

Like burnt wood dissolving into ash, magic fell from her fingers only to be consumed by the darkness killing her. There was no intense emotion or rush of warmth or cold – only the knowledge that death was coming.

In a flash, the darkness both swallowed the witch's vision and fled from her body, air filling her lungs suddenly and dragging hacking coughs behind it.

Angela dropped to the ground as she swallowed air and blinked away her watery vision, her face still hot and heart still pounding. She looked to where Brigitte had been standing and reached a hand out while gasping, “N-no! Don't...pl-please...”

At her command, the hand around the young woman's throat relaxed enough to let her breathe but refused to completely release her. The shadows that sprouted from Brigitte fled from her and instead to the man holding her a few inches off the ground by the neck, vanishing into his flesh to reform and regrow him.

The Reaper's eyes pierced through the darkness and met Angela's. He had stopped all movement, awaiting her command.

“Put her down, Gabriel.” Angela rasped.

He obeyed, not at all phased by his own name as he let the girl drop to the ground in a heap. The cloak he wore flared out as he turned and approached the witch, kneeling before her and offering a hand.

She stared up at the vacant space between his shoulders where his head should be, now just a swirling mass of darkness with glowing eyes. Snapping out of it and accepting the help, the blonde rose to her feet and left her servant behind to check Brigitte for any injuries, sighing in relief at finding none.

“What the hell is that thing?” Brigitte groaned quietly, rising to a sitting position and watching tensely as The Reaper's forming head snapped in her direction at her voice. Shadows wrapped around to create his face, slowly coming together in a human visage.

A fresh bought of shame washed over Angela as she spoke.

“His name is Gabriel, and he's the first man I ever killed.”

The witch curled her hands into fists at the memory but viewed the man with pity as she explained. “There was a woman I knew when I was younger, a dark faery with incredibly destructive power – much worse than my own. She is the one who helped teach most of the dark magic I know and she is also the one who created The Reaper.”

Brigitte didn't even try to hide her terror as she watched the dead man twitch slightly as more shadows filled his body. “I can't even begin to imagine someone worse than you.” She admitted lowly, then asking with a quick glance, “What was her name?”

Shuddering at just the thought, Angela let herself sneer as she replied, “I'm not going to repeat it. Names are powerful things to all magical beings, but to the fae folk it's the pinnacle of manipulation. That woman is pure evil and the last person I want after me. I spent over a decade trying to rid myself of her, I refuse to let all of that go to waste.”

A soft wheeze left Gabriel's mouth, or where his mouth should be, and a dark vapor wafted around his head. Angela settled into a sitting position on her knees and gripped her dress tightly, unable to tear her gaze away from him.

“Gabriel was nothing more than a play-thing to her. An experiment. He sold his soul to her in order to become stronger but the power drove him mad. I was convinced that I could bring him back and free him, but I only made it worse. My 'helping' killed him, but I brought him back to life by possessing him with my magic.”

Unaware that they were even speaking about him, The Reaper stared back owlishly and idled among his newly tamed shadows.

“He listens to me – takes commands from me, but he has no free will or mind of his own. I swore to myself that I would never do such a thing to anyone else ever again,” She let her voice crack and eyes mist as she finished, “but I did. Fareeha, Ana's daughter and my love, is in the exact same state as Gabriel.”

The young woman turned to Angela, opening and closing her mouth as she tried to find something to say. “But you've found a way to cure her.” She finally said, “That's what all of this is about, isn't it?”

Angela rose to her feet and approached Gabriel while saying, “The truth is, there has always been a way.” Her hand reached out and rested on his shoulder, letting his dark energy creep onto her skin and dig into her flesh.

“Then why haven't you--!”

“Because the cure is death.” The witch spat back, suddenly unwilling to look at Gabriel. “I lied to myself for years saying that I would keep Gabriel by my side so that I could find another way. But no more. I can see now how stupid of an excuse that was to enslave a man, and I can't make such promises anymore.”

Magic drained from her hand into his body, his eyes reflecting the glowing green of her own as the witch whispered, “I'm so sorry for everything, Gabriel. You deserved so much better, and I can only pray that the next life will treat you fairer. Good-bye, and thank you.”

“ _Liber esto anima vestra_.”

The body turned to ash beneath her fingers, dead for far too long to be anything but crumbling dust. As it spread and drifted off into nothing, Gabriel stared back with the same blank expression.

The witch stared at the pile of ash left behind and grit her teeth, another bout of anger rising higher and higher in her chest. “How sad is it that it took me this long to realize how wrong I was? To realize that I am evil? And all it took was one single woman with the stupid idea to love me.”

Angela scoffed and shook some remaining particles of death from her fingers as she muttered, “I don't blame you for hating me, nor can I fault you for it. Truthfully, I don't deserve everything or anyone around me. I am and never will be 'good'.”

When she turned to glare at Brigitte, she forced the anger down and her expression turned to that of sorrow.

She wet her lips while approaching the armored woman cautiously, “Your father died a noble death; he died fighting for something and someone he believed in. You're right, he is a hero. If that isn't enough to bring you peace of mind, then perhaps knowing that I will most likely die bringing Reinhardt back will be enough. But even if it isn't, I'll make you one last deal.”

“If I somehow survive resurrecting both Reinhardt and Fareeha, I'll try to bring back your father or I'll let you kill me, your choice. All I ask in return...”

Angela rested a hand on the young woman's armored shoulder and said, “...is that you don't forgive me, but don't burn yourself up with your anger. If you do, I'm afraid this cycle of hate will continue and you'll end up exactly like me. I can't help but look at you and see a little bit of myself. I see that scared girl who's world has been torn apart, and I'll do anything to make her a little less broken.”

The blonde chuckled awkwardly when there was no response and tried to hurriedly move away while adding, “God, I have gone soft; I sound like Lúcio. He _is_ too damn happy.”

“Me? Accepting a deal from you? Why would you think I could ever let something like that happen?!” Brigitte's voice shook as she whipped around and glared at the witch, “After everything you've done, why the hell should I trust you?! Why do _you_ have to give your life in exchange for theirs?!”

“Because I have to.” Angela replied simply, “It's my fault that all of this began in the first place, so I have to make sure it ends once and for all. I know my words are meaningless, but Brigitte, I'm sorry. I've lived long enough. Just let me try and do the right thing.”

“You said earlier that there's nothing left for you here, but you're wrong. Your a smart woman with a bright future and a wonderful teacher. Live on. The world is bright and beautiful, I won't let you give up after coming this far. I don't care if you trust me or not, but listen to me when I say that there are people here who _need_ you.”

The young woman clearly wasn't ready for the apology or speech, her shoulders slumping and her jaw slacking. She stared back, the hate in her eyes fading to be replaced with thick tears. Angela could only stare back in return and realize just how small Brigitte looked in her armor.

Despite her quaking voice and bleary eyes, Brigitte tightened her face into a pained anger and declared, “Just shut up! I don't want anything to do with you or your magic! So take your fucking deal and shove it!” She inhaled sharply and lifted her head in a failed attempt to stop tears from sliding down her face.

Angela turned away from the scene and stared down the long hall while murmuring with a half-smile, “Of course. I'm sure Ana's told you time and time again to stay away from me and my magic. I suppose I wasn't thinking.”

“S'not that I don't want him back.” Brigitte spoke quietly, “But I know it's not what he would want. He'd cuff me over the head and tell me I'm being too sentimental, that I have a duty to uphold as the king's squire. But...”

“You'll never stop missing your father.” Angela said, flicking her wrist and summoning a fistful of flames to light the way. “But if you can push aside your own selfish desires to see that it's not something he would agree with, then I'd say you're one step closer to healing from it. Ana told me I needed to mourn, and I pass that advice on to you now. Remember his mistakes, and never forget his unwavering love for you.”

“How does the spell work?”

Brigitte's armor clinked as she followed behind the witch, sniffling and wiping her face as she went. Angela sighed through her nose, “I'll use my own spell, The Spark of Life, to revive the body and then use Zenyatta's spell to bring the soul back. But no magic is powerful enough to grasp a soul and pluck it out of nothing, so I'll instead have to use my own life-force to do it.”

“So how will you bring back both Reinhardt and Fareeha? You only have one life.”

“That's the trick. I'm hoping that I can use a portion of my life, not the whole thing. It'll be much harder to pull off I'm sure, and I don't know if that means they will have a limited time to live again or not.” Angela snorted, “I'm essentially trying to cheat death and God at the same time and I am not very confident either will be pleased about it.”

A closed door appeared in the distance and only then did Angela let the fear of what would happen next sink in. She forced herself to continue walking to it but paused before it, choosing her words carefully.

She turned to the young woman and asked carefully, “In case I do not live past this point, would you pass along a message for me?”

Brigitte cocked a brow but nodded.

Angela looked away, ashamed but direct as she said, “Tell him I'm so sorry for everything. I wish things could have been different.”

“I'm guessing this is meant for Lúcio.”

“Yes. And I know it's a weak apology and pointless without saying it face to face, but please pass it to Reinhardt as well.”

The scoff echoed off the empty walls as Brigitte brushed past Angela and opened the door. “Tell that to him yourself.”

The spacious room that waited beyond the door caused the witch to pause in confusion. It made no sense how they ended up here, that this room was here when the hallway was behind them that should have lead to this end.

The throne room was completely barren, void of anything but decay and dust and a few torches that cast low lights. At the back of the room, centered in a neat presentation, what was left of the throne stood tall and cast one long shadow across a lone white sheet on the floor.

Angela's throat tightened and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end as she stared at the misshapen figure hidden beneath the sheet. Brigitte stared longingly with her and approached the body, removing her gloves and gauntlets as she went.

More of her armor followed until her upper half had been freed from the pristine iron and steel, revealing a thickly padded undershirt that covered both arms and her neck. The removed pieces of armor were placed in a neat row, out of place among the dust and darkness.

Brigitte knelt near the top of the sheet and gripped the corner tightly in her fist. Unsure if she could handle any stronger stench of rot, Angela held her hand out to pause the younger woman and tried to swallow the bile crawling up her throat back down.

Successful for the moment, Angela straightened her spine and walked to stand beside Brigitte. As the sheet was pulled away and what was left of the body revealed, the witch lifted her shaking hands and let her eyes close to both concentrate and shy away from the grotesque sight.

“First, restore the body.” She whispered to herself, feeling magic ease off her fingers to weave torn flesh and ripped skin back together.

“Then return the spark.” Her eyes opened in time to witness the flash of green encompass the body, sinking into the skin to race through reformed veins and organs to restart them.

“And then--” She froze and gasped in shock when it's eyes opened. Brigitte lurched away in horror, falling on her back and scrambling away.

The eyes, white and empty, saw nothing, but that didn't make the sight any less eerie. It brought the vomit back to Angela's throat and made the quaking in her hands uncontrollable. The distortions of her own mind were causing the eyes to stare back at her, reminding her of cold.

The thought made no sense. Why did she feel so cold? Why did her side hurt suddenly? Why did her _chest_ hurt? Her mind was racing, trying to find solutions to such simple problems but finding that she couldn't think past that singular thought: she was cold.

It wasn't until Brigitte was helping her sink to the floor that Angela realized how hard she was breathing – or the fact that she couldn't breathe at all. She tried to push the hands away, unable to ignore a crawling sensation that spread across her skin and made her squirm uncomfortably.

And then she was shoving Brigitte away, turning to the side to hack what little had been in her stomach across the floor. Angela curled into herself, gritting her teeth and trying to stop herself from heaving again. When she failed to and instead choked around nothing but air, she clenched her fists and let her own hot tears warm her face.

The pain and confusion of what just happened faded into irritation and Angela began to rise back to her feet when a sudden and sharp pain in her lower abdomen left her crying out and sliding back into the floor.

Once again quick to act, Brigitte gently lifted her up to rest on her knees and rubbed unsure circles into her back. “If you can't...” She started, clearly unsure where she was going with it.

“I can!” The witch gasped, wincing but forcing herself to stand again.

Her eyes shut again and she inhaled deeply, taking in the stench of death without any issue this time. Despite the smell, the body, and the situation, Angela pushed it all aside and instead focused inward.

She remembered the speech Ana just gave her, remembered the meaningful conversation she shared with Lúcio when they first met, remembered the pain of losing Fareeha, remembered the fear of loving Fareeha.

She remembered the unwavering love given to her, using it to clear her mind as well as make it up once and for all.

“I can.” She repeated, extending her hands once more.

 

 

 

_Everything was white._

_The world was bathed in blinding light, not a sound to be heard or living thing to be seen._

_Everything was warm._

_It was the only sensation she was capable of comprehending, that the light filling the void was warm and inviting._

_Or maybe what was so warm and inviting were the arms wrapped around her. Maybe the blinding light was coming from the nearby window being reflected onto the sheets they lay under. Or from the oddly mute fireplace on the other side of the room._

_Could it be called a room? There didn't seem to be any walls. But then how was there a window if there wasn't a wall? Or a fireplace? The bed they lay upon was clearly pushed against a wall. She remembered it that way._

_'I remember?'_

_She blinked, trying to adjust to the intense lighting and to better collect her barrings. When she turned her head to further avoid the light she came to meet the eyes looking back at her._

_When blue eyes met brown, each broke into unexplained laughter, starting as soft giggling and growing into uncontrollable guaffing. It wasn't the sight of one another that was so funny, and truthfully she couldn't decide what exactly caused the humor._

_Tears crested down her cheeks and the laughter became heavy sobs that they still smiled through. Their embrace grew tighter as they tried to hide the uncertain emotions from one another while expressing their relief at being reunited._

_Their cries couldn't be quelled, but that didn't stop her from voicing her sole thought aloud._

_“You're here.” She said once. Her voice shook with bittersweet laughter again as she confirmed, “You're here.”_

_“I missed you.” Angela replied, burying her wet nose in dark hair._

_Unable to think of anything else to say, she only responded with a much weaker affirmation of, “You're really here.”_

_“I love you.” Angela whispered sweetly, a kiss to the chin accentuating her declaration._

_Gentle caresses marred her face, neither caring about the wet mess they were spreading as they shared a sigh of relief and a long kiss._

_When they finally broke apart and stared into each others eyes again, Angela asked quizzically, “What is this place?”_

_Unsure exactly herself, she shrugged and replied with the first thing that came to her._

_“Eternity.”_

_“It's lovely either way.” Angela murmured as she drew closer to kiss her again, “Because you're here. And you're real and warm and we'll never be apart again. Just you and I, my sweet, for forever.”_

_Forever was a nice thought. Eternity was a glorious end. Lovely was this moment._

_And then she remembered._

_Panic set in as she pulled away suddenly, her hands cupping Angela's face and demanding, “No! You shouldn't be here, Angela! Why are you here?! How are you here?!” Her face froze in horror and she asked, “Did you-- are you...? No, you can't be. Please, you can't be dead too.”_

_“I-I'm so sorry.” Angela's smile faded but her fingers traced patterns along her bare back, “I'm afraid I don't remember what happened. I'm just...here.”_

_“But how did you get here? How did I get here? What happened to the other place?” Still stressed and suddenly remembering more, she then asked in a rush, “What about the baby?”_

_Angela went stiff, her eyes wide and mouth agape. “I-I don't...” She gasped, her expression morphing into one of intense pain suddenly and causing her to contort into herself._

_“Angela--?”_

_“I don't think I can stay...” Angela whimpered, uncurling enough to give her a weak smile, “But I'll be back. You promised you wouldn't leave me...and you're still here.”_

_She watched in horror as a thick drop of blood slowly rolled from Angela's nostril, another quickly following it to begin making a mess on the sheets below. Copious amounts of blood were beginning to flow freely, but Angela seemed completely unaware as she spoke._

_“I promise I'll be back for you. I won't leave you either, Fareeha. I love you so much, please just wait a little longer. I love you, Fareeha. Please wait for me.”_

_The name caught her off guard and her brows furrowed. The blinding light returned, the warmth fading as it grew more intense and a high pitched ringing deafening her slightly._

_While she was still able to see the last few glimpses of Angela's bloody face and still hear her repeating 'I love you', she asked a single question._

_“Who is Fareeha?”_


	8. Kiss Good Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It's only a matter of time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter is 16,938 words long.

Her eyes snapped open, a harsh gasp sending much needed air to her lungs and causing her to wheeze weakly.

The view she was greeted to was that of Lúcio, bent over and dripping tears down to land on her neck. He stared incredulously back at her, his face screwing up in a new sob as he whimpered, “Angela...”

The witch's head was swimming terribly and when she tried to sit up she discovered she had no support in her spine. Licking her dry lips to try and speak, she paused when her tongue hit the irony taste of blood and realized that her face was wet from more than tears.

Her hand was suddenly before her face and she stared at it in confusion, unsure how it was moving or when she decided to raise it. Nevertheless, it's fingers stretched out to touch her face and came away bloody.

Slowly coming back to herself more, Angela became aware that the sides of her neck were also moist and had her hair sticking awkwardly to her skin. She attempted to reassure Lúcio again but ended up doing nothing more than tumbling into a coughing fit. The blood she spat across his button down didn't alarm either of them. It was already stained and soaked.

“No, shh, don't please.” Lúcio gasped, holding on to her tighter and raising her up to lay further in his lap. “You're okay, I've got you. Please just look at me, please no. Oh God...please...just look at me, Angela. _Please._ ”

He turned his head around and shrieked something before returning his attention to the witch. A gentle hand ran through her hair in a comforting motion as he gave her a frail smile and said through tense hiccups, “Y-you really sc-scared me. I thought...you w-weren't br-breathing.”

 She stared back at him through half-lidded eyes and tried to mumble something out, but did nothing but gasp for more air.

Every breath hurt.

It felt like her lungs weren't expanding fully, reaching not even a half-way point before they refused to take in more air and causing her entire chest to tense up in sharp pain.

Everything hurt.

Now that she regained some sense of self back, she wished she could take it away again. Her head was pounding with her racing heartbeat and her ears felt clogged past the point of discomfort. It was like Angela could suddenly feel every single fiber of her being, and every single one was screaming in agony.

A new set of hands rested on her arm and Ana came into view, hunching over and getting in the blonde's face with no regards for personal space. Angela whined in disapproval as the alchemist forcibly pulled her eyelids back to look in her eyes and wrestled a hand under her dress to feel her heart.

Only when Ana's hands went to her stomach did Angela begin to panic.

She tried to sit up again, tried to speak again, tried to figure out what the hell was going on but failed for the last time. Instead of falling back in defeat, her entire body seized.

It started from her chest and spread outwards, her hands trying to grab hold of anything or anyone out of fear but never able to grasp anything for long. Her vision faded rapidly and her breathing sped until she could only manage short gasps that resulted in nothing to be gained at all. She was choking on nothing, could hear nothing.

And as soon as it started, it stopped. She was able to hear at the last second, right before it all became too much and she faded back into nothingness.

It was the sound of people screaming.

When she regained consciousness again, it wasn't a gradual build up to lucidity. Instead, she jolted awake with another sharp pain in her chest and another harsh gasp for air. The strain her body felt was immediate this time and made her whimper as she tried to shift into a more comfortable position.

Slowly rolling from her back to her side, Angela sluggishly dragged her eyes around to find herself back in Ana's room and laying in her bed. The sound of feet shuffling at the door caught her attention and she wet her lips to try and call out but was promptly halted.

“Don't even think about it.” Ana warned. She side-stepped into view and knelt down in front of the witch's face, going through the same motions as before as she checked her over.

Angela squirmed in discomfort at her aching self and the alchemist's firm hands but let her continue, somehow finding the strength to weakly slur out, “What happened?”

Narrowing her brows in thought and producing a small vial and needle from her pocket, Ana didn't meet Angela's eyes as she spoke. “You died, Angela. Multiple times. Brigitte dragged your body back to us and I managed to resuscitate you the first time. The second and third times you bled out and, with Lúcio's help, you woke up finally.”

“But you went into shock immediately and I had to sedate you. You've been out for a few hours now and have routinely had your heart stop. I've stayed here with you to restart it while hoping you'd be able to wake up without immediately trying to die again. Let's hope this is the last time.”

Trying to contain her horror, Angela turned her head and stared quietly at the ceiling as Ana injected the contents of the vial into her arm. The alchemist tsked to herself and muttered, “And you're very anemic all of a sudden. I can't tell if it's your heart or if there is heavy internal bleeding.”

“It's both. And neither.” Angela rasped as she slowly dragged an arm over her eyes. She sucked air slowly through her teeth and said upon exhaling, “I don't think this will stop.”

Her arm was lowered and she stared back at Ana with wild eyes and demanded, “The baby-- he's alright, isn't he?”

“Yes. Steady heartbeat, clear and distinct movements, as healthy as a horse. You have nothing to fear, Angela. Your child is perfectly fine.” Ana hummed then asked, “Can you describe what it feels like? Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere.”

“Wonderful. So there's no helping it then.”

With a defeated sigh, the older woman gave her a curious look. “Do you think you can stand?”

“Not for long.” The witch murmured, stifling a wince as she tried to sit up, “And not unaided.”

It was a slow and gradual process, standing from the bed. Rising from her back was an ordeal in itself and once Angela had her legs over the side of the bed she had to beg Ana to give her a moment to catch her breath. The fact that such a tiny action caused such a reaction didn't leave her with much confidence.

The trek to the door brought them to another long pause so she could breathe again. Attempting to gulp more air than her lungs were capable of holding, Angela forced a pathetic smile and told Ana to just drag her back to the bed.

“I'm afraid I cannot.” The alchemist said with an unreadable smirk, “I have strict orders to present you once awake. There is someone who wishes to speak to you, witch”

Now exhausted, in pain, and apprehensive, Angela wished she had enough strength to push the older woman out the door and lock it before she could reenter.

She knew this moment was coming, but that didn't mean she was prepared for it. At least she knew she succeeded in her one good deed, but that did little to sooth her.

Every step filled her with dread from then on.

The work room was eerily empty, void of any sound or life as they passed through. The halls echoed a warbling, hollow howl of the wind whistling through the broken walls and rafters. The final, now dimly lit corridor, still cast shadows across the walls and floor that danced around as if mocking her and the way she'd flinch at them in fear.

The door to the throne room, casting bright light from under it and muffling the sounds of loud laughter and chatter, made the witch feel smaller than an ant.

Ana left her standing on her own to knock at the door, swiftly turning and producing a handkerchief. Her lips thinned to a hard line as she worked quickly to wipe away what Angela assumed was smeared blood from her nose and top lip before moving to her ears and neck.

“You look like death.” The alchemist sighed irritably. “That is no way to meet a king.”

When the door opened, Angela's heart found itself in her throat and she couldn't breathe, bracing in a panic. Brigitte stepped out and closed it behind her, the smile on her lips vanishing the instant she saw the witch.

Her face contorted into an array of emotions and she struggled to find her words, finally addressing the blonde with a surprisingly worried voice. “You...what happened to you? You look...did your hair get whiter?”

Angela forced herself to crack a smile and joked weakly, “Don't tell me you've gone soft on me so soon. And it's rude to ask a woman about her age, Brigitte.”

The young woman looked between her and Ana, searching for some sort of answer that neither would give. The alchemist ushered her student away from the door and said, “It's nothing to worry about. Is he ready?”

Brigitte nodded firmly and brushed past them, saying over her shoulder, “He's asked for a change of clothes. I'm going to go see what I can salvage.”

When she vanished into the darkness of the corridor, Angela gripped Ana's arm tightly and hissed in a rush. “What do I say to him? What _can_ I say to him?”

The old woman removed her hand gently and moved to open the door. “Tell him everything. The good, the bad, and everything in between. Reinhardt is storyteller, so tell him your story.”

A little push forward was all that was needed to get her on the other side of the door, sealing her and her fate in as it creaked closed behind her.

The throne room was filled with light, the complete opposite of what it had been before. Sunlight poured in from where the ceiling had caved in, birds nesting and watching from what remained of the rafters and gables.

Overgrowth had taken over much of the room, sprouting between the stone floor and walls, climbing high to reach towards the sun and blooming into both brightly coloured and deeply painted shades and hues. Not a single trace of browning or greying greenery could be spotted. Everything was alive.

At the center of the room, where the body had previous rested, now lay various rugs topped with pillows or other soft seats. A fire had been made and crackled lowly, the spit over it long since void of food but still dripping grease into the flames. A barrel topped with a spout rested near to it, two large steins sitting side by side on it.

And seated on a bench before the fire, clothed in a velvety robe and humming to himself, sat the King of Adlersbrunn.

He seemed completely engrossed in whatever was in his hands, not at all noticing that he was no longer alone.

The witch tightened her fists and raised her chin, forced her heart to slow and the heat in her eyes to fade, and cleared her throat.

“Oh!”

The mountainous man jumped slightly and sat up from his hunched position, setting his things down – a knife and hunk of wood with a carved end – and rising to his feet.

Angela instantly shrank into herself as he rose to his full height. She closed her eyes as he began to turn, bracing for the final blow from his hammer and for her well deserved end.

“I...am afraid that I don't know what to say.”

The soft voice made her gradually release all of the tension in her body and open her eyes, still uncertain as she lifted her gaze.

The King stood wringing his hands, clearly as nervous as the witch and unafraid to show it. Angela refused to look any higher, refused to look him in the face. The fear of looking into dead, blank white eyes kept her gaze lowered. The furthest she reached was the lower half of his face, observing the snowy beard and deep frown carefully before looking to the floor again.

“How pathetic of me!” He suddenly laughed, loud and booming and causing her to jolt out of surprise. “I must admit, I have spent the past night thinking about what I wanted to say, but now that you are here...it's all gone.”

His turned back to the fire and bent to pick something up, turning to reveal the ornate kettle in his hands. “Would you care for some tea?” He asked with a small smile, quickly tacking on with a broad sweep of his hand towards the fire, “Or perhaps some fresh rolls and currywurst! An odd combination for breakfast I know, but it is delicious I assure you. Oh, and Brigitte made apple pie! It's still warm if you...”

When he trailed off and his smile faded back into its former deep frown, Angela forced herself to breathe and willed her hands to stop shaking. Her vision was swimming now and her feet felt numb, a fear of toppling to the ground growing within her.

The fear increased as she remembered Ana's horrifying words of death upon every unconscious second. She had to stay awake, had to move, had to say _anything_.

“Why.”

It surprised both of them. Both shifted awkwardly before the other, clearly not sure how to move past something that was said as a statement rather than a question. The kettle was lowered as if in defeat and The King looked away in shame, something that once again surprised the witch.

He opened and closed his mouth, clearly unsure where to begin. He finally sighed and sat on the bench once again with his back to her. “Would you care to join me?” He asked softly while motioning to the bench.

Forcing herself to focus on keeping her balance, Angela gradually made her way to the fire and sat as far away from the man as possible. She sighed upon sitting, grateful to be off her feet and lifting a hand to try and rub the forming headache behind her forehead away.

“Whenever I introduce myself to people, I repeat the same script I was told from the beginning. 'I am Balderich von Adler, the Lion of the Holy War, Paladin of Justice, and rightful king of Adlersbrunn and all her people'. There have only been a handful of times I have introduced myself by my true name, and even then I feel as though I need to embellish myself to such similarly great heights.”

He turned his head slightly to look down at her and presented his hand slowly while saying, “I am Reinhardt Wilhelm, the son of a miller, and false king of this fallen kingdom. I would like to now return the unasked question: who are you?”

She stared at the hand and wet her lips, her chest tightening as she made herself speak again. “I...” The gut reaction to say both 'The Witch' and 'Mercy' closed her throat instantly, but a sliver of bravery and a chance glance up at The King's face made her freeze.

His eyes, one a deep blue and one a blinded and a hazy white, were filled with sorrow. The regret seemed to be as etched into his face as the worn lines and thick scars of his skin from age and battle, a testament to years of misery and lies. And as the witch stared back into his pained eyes, she realized it was like looking into her own.

“I am Angela...” She whispered hoarsely, chuckling at herself for the pause she took while struggling to remember her own name, “Angela Ziegler. The daughter of two farmers and...”

Once again at a loss about which alias to present, she instead exhaled tensely and finished, “...and partner of Fareeha Amari, a former knight known as Pharah of the Sands, Captain of the Helix Guard, Bringer of Justice.”

Reinhardt nodded and faced the fire, his lips quirking up into a small smile. “I met her once, years ago, when she was still very small and before I became king. That girl had a fire in her eyes I had never seen before. I hope she's well.”

The witch froze, biting her lip and fisting the skirts of her dress tightly.

“She's...gone.”

“Oh. I-I see.” He hesitantly gazed down at Angela and whispered, “I'm so sorry for your loss. It must be incredibly painful, especially in your state.” Now chuckling as if to ease away from the uncomfortable conversation he mentioned, “I had originally planned on offering you a stein but I don't think that would be very wise to--”

“Stop.” Angela said suddenly, rising to her feet and rubbing at her temples to try and sooth her headache and the nausea creeping up her throat. “Just stop.”

“Have I said something wrong, _Fräulein?_ ”

The weight in her chest grew enough to crush her in and her face grew hot with emotion as she spat, “I just said to stop and you keep going! And going! You just-- why are you like this?! Why are you so _nice?!_ Why are you being so kind to me?! I don't deserve this, _you_ don't deserve this, so why are you--”

A sob escaped from her and she sat back down in a slump and buried her face in her hands. Trying to compose herself while feeling her sanity cracking away, Angela inhaled sharply and spoke quickly, “You're being hospitable to the monster who murdered you and your people. You're being kind and understanding to me, the person who ruined everything. I am the living embodiment of all that is evil and yet...you're treating me like...”

Hot tears spilled down her cheeks and her voice cracked as she finished, “...you're treating me like Fareeha did. And I can't...I can't do this again. I-it _hurts_.”

“I don't think you're a monster.” Reinhardt said after a moment of silence. “I'm sorry. I hadn't thought about how overwhelming this would be for you. I just...”

His gaze into the fire hardened suddenly as he said, “You were born a citizen of this kingdom. I may not have been the man with title or the crown when you had your life destroyed, but I wear it now and take full responsibility. As your king, I failed you. I will never know the suffering you have and I can never be sorry enough, Madam Ziegler.”

They were silent, save for the witch's stifled sobs, both watching the fire dance and cast tiny shadows across the floor. Reinhardt shifted slightly and prodded a long poker into the flames, nudging a log further into it's embrace and causing embers to be whisked away to the heavens.

“I came to know Balderich when I was summoned to fight in the Holy War. We both had something to prove: he to prove that he could be a prince unafraid to fight for his kingdom and I to prove that I could amount to something greater than a miller. We became fast friends, inseparable almost. And for that I'm forever grateful.”

“He was a good man. But he was not a good prince. He lacked the empathy to truly care for his subjects. Balderich was immature, unable to see past the jewels and glittering prizes of both royalty and the thought of victory at war. I loved Balderich as my friend, but I couldn't see him as my king.”

Reinhardt placed a hand across his face to shield his eyes from the memories, his lips quivering as he continued. “War is hell. And you cannot keep everyone safe. I should have died there. But for some foolish reason, he thought I deserved to live. He died in my place. I was left disfigured, blinded, battered and heartbroken.”

“His final request was that since he were to take my place in death that I should take his in life. When I carried on his last message to his father, the previous king, he agreed to honour Balderich's wishes. My face was scarred enough for no one to distinguish that I was not the prince. By the time I became king, I realized the true legacy Balderich had left behind for me. One sullied with unrighteous actions and ignorance. He died to escape his own sins and left me to try and correct them.”

“I cannot say that I have been a good king. I've hidden in shame for so many years, and I have paid for it. Perhaps it is a higher being punishing me for surviving, or perhaps it is the world deciding that I was suppose to speak to you as I am now. Whatever the reason, I cannot thank you enough. You have returned life to me, someone who failed to seize it the first time, and I am truly grateful. You are worthy of being called Mercy, and I am forever in your debt.”

Angela raised her head up and asked, “How do you know about 'Mercy'?”

A large hand motioned to a collection of pillows and blankets. It took the blonde a moment to find him, but buried among them and dead to the world, Lúcio lay snoozing with blankets tucked up to his ears.

“He is a kind boy,” Reinhardt chuckled, “and he cares for you deeply. While you were recovering, he told me about you and your persona. It's very admirable.”

“He's too nice for his own good.” Angela said with a smile, “And an excellent student. He'll surpass me soon and live a fulfilling life. He is, as you said, righteous in every way.”

The false-king nodded, glancing down at the witch from the corners of his eyes. “You know, I have heard his side of it and even parts of his own story. But perhaps, if it is alright with you, I could hear your story in full?”

She looked to Lúcio's sleeping face longingly, wishing he would suddenly wake up and save her from the question and distract them with a stupid joke or silly tune.

“I understand if it's too much. I only seek to better understand why what happened, happened. If that makes sense. You don't have to--”

“I was born in a tiny village near the eastern side of the kingdom.” Angela said in a rush, refusing to look anywhere but Lúcio as she willed the tears in her eyes to go away. “M-my parents were farmers. And I,” She said with a sorry laugh that resulted in the tears falling, “can't even remember their names.”

There was a pause after every sentence, weak attempts to compose herself as she recalled her childhood and what little she could remember about her parents. Reinhardt said nothing.

When she reached the point of their demise, she could do nothing more but wail into her hands and seek comfort in the large hand resting on her shoulder. And when that too passed and faded, her eyes became dry and her voice stronger. His hand stayed on her shoulder.

Explaining what became of her after leaving the kingdom was easier, in a sick sense. Confessing to every piece of dark magic she learned and mastered as a child made her skin crawl and itch uncomfortably and forced her to finally look away from Lúcio, as if he'd corrupt just from her look.

Angela chose to leave out the more gory details of her past, electing to ignore mentioning all of the ways the people who crossed her were slaughtered brutally, but unwilling to forget all of their faces and last words.

At some point, the door creaked open behind them and Brigitte entered carrying a set of clothes for Reinhardt. He declined them silently but motioned for her to do something else. A few moments later, Angela found herself being presented with a plate of warm food and a stein of cool water.

She only nibbled on the food at first but soon found herself more engrossed in wolfing it down than speaking, having to stop herself from cramming bread and cheese into her mouth on more than one occasion. Instead of leaving the room, Brigitte plopped down among the blankets and pillows near Lúcio and listened intently to the witch speak.

It was then that Angela realized that her student was looking back at her, listening to her story as silently as the others.

By the time she began talking about her first attempt at destroying Adlersbrunn, her plate had been pushed aside in favor of a small dish with what was left of Brigitte's apple pie. It was unsure when exactly she had entered, but Ana came to hover beside her to check her pulse and stick her in the arm with another needle.

Angela couldn't help the smile she grew as Fareeha came into the story. She realized how disgustingly sweet she sounded by the eye rolls and quiet giggles she received.

She told them about their cottage and their deal and how her own will to keep their relationship strictly physical failed completely. She told them about how confident Fareeha was about them binding their souls together and about having a baby.

Her smile only faded when she then told them about her own blinding desire to still obliterate the kingdom. Her eyes shut as she recalled that night, meeting Zenyatta and Genji, and the memory of losing Fareeha.

When she opened her eyes again after explaining how she left the cottage for the last time, she found that everyone was staring at the ground. The only sound in the room came from Ana, who stood somewhere behind her weeping.

Reinhardt, still refusing to speak, waved his hand towards Brigitte and she stood slowly. She nudged Lúcio with her foot to get up and he followed her, the two passing by Angela and giving her parting pats on the shoulder.

The door opened and then shut. The silence returned and they were alone again.

Despite her voice and body shaking, Angela made herself continue on and spoke of her time as Mercy and newfound wish to somehow make up for all the awful things she had done. She hesitated to include the struggles of being pregnant alone and to mention the gnawing anxiety it brought upon her.

She spoke of Horus, back-tracking slightly to explain their history and complicated friendship. From there she spoke of Lúcio and his kindness, Ana and her unparalleled rage, Brigitte and her refusal to a deal.

It was easy to speak of the dead body that stared back at her, that slowly rose to life before her eyes and regained consciousness from nothing.

And throughout it all, Reinhardt said nothing. He stayed perfectly silent, listening with every fiber of his being.

Angela looked to him when she finished, shrugging her shoulders slightly before looking back into the fire.

“Even after all this time, I still don't understand. How does one do the right thing? How do you know you're doing the right thing? How do _you_ do the right thing?”

Reinhardt hummed in thought, the first sound he had made in an hour, while rubbing at his beard. His hands came to rest on his knees and he looked into the flames while saying, “I try to do the right thing, and then I do it.”

“That is not helpful in the slightest.”

He laughed, the sound still booming far too loud and somehow able to rattle deep within the witch's chest. “So it is! I apologize!”

“To do the right thing, one must actively seek to _try_. No one suddenly falls into doing good deeds. To be righteous, you must have the intent to be righteous. There are an infinite amount of reasons why people don't try. You make one mistake and become engulfed in it until you've been swept away by darkness and apathy.”

“But to then pull yourself out of that empty void of pain and sorrow, to acknowledge that it isn't because you _cannot_ try but that you _will not_ , that is the first step to doing good. You try to do the right thing, and then you do it.”

He stood suddenly and offered the witch a hand, pulling her up as well but refusing to release her hand. “I hardly think I am qualified to determine your progress,” Reinhardt said with a warm smile and deep sincerity, “but I truly believe that you have changed. The story you've just told me is one of you trying to right the wrongs of not only yourself but others. That in itself is righteous.”

Reinhardt led her a few steps away from the bench, “I have remembered what it was I wanted to say to you. I have feared you for so long I didn't think our meeting like this would be possible. But I choose to have no more fear or regret, only forgiveness and friendship.” He bowed slightly while still holding her hand and asked, “May I have this dance, Madam Ziegler?”

The small nod she gave made her head lighter than before and she willingly let Reinhardt direct her hands into place and lead. As her vision became blurrier and her heart raced higher and higher, he commented softly, “You're shaking.”

“I'm still confused.” Angela confessed. “I feel like I don't understand anything anymore. Everything I've ever done right, everything I've ever _won_ has always ended in tears. So what happens now? How could it get worse than it is right now?”

“Take it from an old man,” Reinhardt chuckled as he spun her lightly, “you'll only ever truly lose.”

“What was it like where you were? How would you describe what lies beyond life?”

He hesitated, looking away and frowning deeply. “It was...dark. Endless, hopeless, and cold. I could hear people screaming my name, but I couldn't scream back.” His voice cracked ever so slightly as he added, “I heard Ana the most, crying out for me. But I could never find her or reach her. That's all I can remember.”

“Do you think that's where Fareeha is?”

“Surely not. I'm sure she's somewhere safe and warm and full of light. She was a good woman, she'll reside in a better place simply because she deserves to.”

They grew silent as they danced, swaying gently to nothing but the wind whispering through the cracks of the walls and the scurrying of creatures around them. Growing afraid of the quiet and the racing thoughts it left her with, Angela wet her lips.

“Do you really think that I of all people deserve happiness?”

The man paused, humming in thought while spinning her again. “I believe that happiness belongs to everyone granted that it isn't brought by the suffering of others. And I believe that there is good in you trying to break through, so yes. You too deserve happiness.”

“I feel like I can't be happy without Fareeha. She took my life with her. I'm scared that I took advantage of the short time we had together.”

Their waltz gained a little more speed as a new sort of self-loathing squeezed Angela's heart tightly. Reinhardt matched her speed without faltering and managed to slow her movements as he spoke. “My dear, there is an infinite amount of time in this world. You'll see her again. It's only a matter of time.”

She placed her head on his shoulder to try and combat the pounding behind her forehead and whispered, “What if you're wrong?”

“Then I am wrong. But I choose to have hope. Forget your worries for a moment, my dear.” Reinhardt stepped away and spun her again, this time releasing her hand to let her spin away while saying, “Life is one hell of a journey, enjoy every moment of it.”

As she twirled, Angela could feel her legs giving way and dropping her to ground. Just before she hit the ground, strong hands pulled her up and had her leaning against a warm chest to support her. The blonde sighed wistfully at the gentle hands that traced her back and the comforting presence of the person holding her.

Her own hands come up to rest on their shoulders, her fingers finding thick hair to brush through. Angela kept her eyes closed but angled her face up into their neck, inhaling the familiar scent of Fareeha and grinning.

“I've missed you.” She whispered before pressing a kiss to the underside of the knight's jaw.

Fareeha said nothing, only continued swaying them from side to side and pulling her closer.

Angela reached up further to lightly kiss her on the lips, curious as to the woman's silence and asking as she opened her eyes, “Fareeha--”

_She gasped at the blank eyes that stared down at her and the thick tears that spilled from them. The witch stared in horror at the unnaturally pale skin of her lover and the blackness that stained the veins under her skin, at the thinness in her face and terror it expressed._

_Fareeha's hold became shakier and her cracked lips moved silently, begging almost. Angela whipped her head around to find Reinhardt and couldn't stop her body from chilling at the sight behind her._

_Reinhardt was crouched on the ground beside her body, holding her and shaking her gently while turning to roar something at the door, his voice muted as if he were underwater. It burst open and Ana rushed inside, dropping down beside them and staring at the convulsing body in horror._

_Angela stared stupidly at her own body and the blood spurting from it's mouth as she died. Light headed again and close to sobbing from confusion, she looked back to Fareeha for any sort of answer but received none._

_The knight's hands gripped her face tightly as she found her voice, trembling and weak but enough to be heard._

_“Help me.” She pleaded._

_Everything distorted in an instant, the world tilting and melting away into nothing but blurred shadows. Angela's chest felt tight from the lack of air and her limbs became completely numb. It felt as if she were falling into nothingness, as if oblivion was pulling her into it's clutches._

_And then through the abyss of death, a hand ripped it's way through and reached for her. It claws it's way closer, grasping some part of her that she couldn't feel and tugging it harshly._

_If she could scream, she would have from the pain. It was akin to having a knife split the skin in a straight line, but the pain resided deep inside her chest. The witch could only watch with dull eyes as the figure grew nearer, ripping more and more of her away._

“You thought that I was a fool.”

_Angela could feel her eyes drooping shut, willing death to hurry up and take her so she could escape this agony. The last clear vision she received was that of Zenyatta appearing right before her face._

_His eyes were piercing in the darkness, the tentacles of his face swaying slightly as if in amusement at her misery._ “You underestimated me, witch.” _He said darkly,_ “You will uphold your end of our deal. You will give me your magic. And I will kill you for it.”

And then, as if someone had snapped their fingers, the blonde jolted awake again.

The air rapidly filling her lungs burned harshly and left her coughing until her throat tore. The irony taste of blood nauseated her to the point of gagging. When she turned her head in preparation to vomit, thick clots of blood escaped from her nose and thin trickles from her mouth.

Her head was impossibly light and her ears were still ringing. Her entire body felt heavy and stiff, her eyes close to shutting again to try and block out the ache that consumed her entire being.

“ _Don't you_ _dare!_ ” Ana spat, shaking her roughly and forcibly pulling her eyelids back.

“Let me go.” Angela moaned weakly, trying to push the old woman's tight grip off her.

The door opened again from somewhere behind them and Angela managed to sway her head around in time to watch Lúcio dash over and slid to the floor. He pressed gentle hands to her head and narrowed his brows in concentration.

The witch sighed at the warmth that enveloped her body and the pleasing feeling of Lúcio's magic soothing her pain. She let him work for a minute more before she motioned for him to stop.

Her eyes lazily drifted to look at Ana and whisper, “I saw Fareeha.”

“How?” The alchemist asked in a hushed voice.

“She's dying.” Angela squeezed her eyes shut as a sudden pain hit her in the chest. “I'm dying.”

Lúcio scoffed and forced a smile, “Nah, don't be so dramatic! You're fine, Ange! Perfectly--”

“Lúcio.”

Their eyes met, the tears forming in his dark gaze unmistakable as she repeated firmly, “I'm dying.”

Addressing Ana again, Angela tried to sit up further, “I need to get to her. _Now._ I'm afraid I'll be too late.”

“We'll leave at once. Lúcio, get Brigitte and have her prepare the horses. Reinhardt, would you carry her outside?”

The blonde let herself be lifted like a child into the heavily scarred arms of the king, tiredly closing her eyes and resting her head against his chest. Determined not to fall asleep despite the intense urge to do so, she instead focused on Reinhardt's heartbeat and counted each one to herself.

The walk out of the throne room and down the corridor was long and slow. Ana had left them to run ahead and gather her things and Reinhardt picked up a gentle pace to avoid jostling the witch too much.

When they exited the corridor and turned to leave the castle, the hair on the back of her neck and along her arms stood on end. Angela cracked her eyes open at the familiar sensation and tapped Reinhardt on the arm to stop.

Waiting for them by the door stood Genji. Beside him, Zenyatta hovered just off the ground bent over in meditation.

The faceless man stared straight at Angela and gave her a small nod in greeting. “In a hurry, I see.” He said plainly.

“Afraid so.” Angela kept giving the monk hesitant glances, something that didn't go unnoticed by his follower.

Genji walked forward with a strange swagger, his movements much crisper and fluid than usual. The disjointed way he had previously moved with was completely gone, as if he were a whole man once again. “You should stay another night. You've just succeeded in doing the impossible, why not relax and celebrate a little longer?”

His voice took on a much darker tone as he added, “I wouldn't recommend traveling tonight.”

“And why,” Reinhardt stood a little straighter and the witch could feel his muscles flex around her, “would you say such a thing, my friend?”

A finger pointed up and for a moment it seemed as if Genji had returned to his usual, jovial self. “It is a full moon tonight. Creatures who feed off magic will be much more powerful.” The sudden shift was eerie and made the witch's stomach knot into itself.

Still keeping an eye on Zenyatta, Angela looked to Genji again and wet her lips to speak. “Come with us, Genji. I know he's controlling you. I can help you.”

“Like you helped Gabriel?”

A chill was rising up her spine at the look she was receiving. “I don't know what you're talking about.” She lied.

“We will be leaving now.” Reinhardt said curtly. As they walked out, Angela caught Genji's eyes from beneath the brim of his hat. They were terribly bloodshot and no longer dark brown but the same inhuman, pupil-less green as his master's.

“It's a shame.” He muttered after them. “I considered you my friend.”

Lúcio and Brigitte were waiting for them at the edge of the bridge. The uncertainty was clear on Lúcio's face as he was fitted with thick gauntlets and a sword, holding it away from himself as if it smelled and watching Brigitte suit herself in her own armor.

As they approached, the king's hammer was raised and passed into one of his hands.

“Where's Ana?” The young woman asked.

“She'll be along.” Reinhardt whispered, stepping past them to take in the bridge and all of the bodies littered across it.

Angela dropped her gaze and could feel how the man's breath caught in his throat and then shifted into shallow sniffs. She glanced up at him only to instantly flinch at the sorrow in his eyes and pitiful frown on his face.

He took another step closer and said in a hushed voice, “It seems I haven't amounted to anything more than the same failure I was decades ago.”

“I'm so sorry, Reinhardt.” The witch replied, unable to look at the bodies anymore, “I was a callous fool. These people deserved better.”

“What's done is done. There is nothing more that can be said, but plenty to think about. That in itself is a worse enough punishment for both of our sins, wouldn't you agree?”

Ice rapidly spread across Angela's body and her eyes began burning. Her fingers twitched and felt heavier as the minuscule weight of her fingernails became apparent. Before she could warn anyone of the magic in the air, Brigitte had yelled loudly behind them and turned Reinhardt back towards the fallen door.

“You don't find such a sight glorious?” Zenyatta asked while entwining his fingers, “A pity. But I cannot say I am surprised. You've come to sympathize with these lowly humans and it has made you weak. You're as pathetic as they are now.”

Genji approached from behind him dragging something along the ground. The air in Angela's lungs became caught upon realizing that he was pulling Ana's limp body by her hair. He dropped her in a heap at his feet and shifted to watch his master.

No one moved or said a word, all tensely watching each other and trying to figure out where the situation was going. Growing seemingly bored with the silence, Zenyatta waved his hand and Genji pulled a small dagger from a sheath on his back, jerking his hand down to throw it into Ana's back.

She had no reaction to being pierced with the knife, continuing to lie face down and let the light breeze blow her exposed hair to the side. “Strange,” Zenyatta commented while cupping his chin, “I didn't think I killed her already.”

“Brigitte, would you please take Madam Ziegler?”

Angela looked up to Reinhardt as he spoke, his lips curled back into a ferocious snarl that didn't match the calm tone he used. She was passed off quickly, refusing to be held again and instead leaning heavily against the armored woman.

“Now now, there is no need to act so rash. I don't ask for much, only a simple exchange.”

Brigitte's grip on her tightened and the witch was defensively pulled back another step. The armored woman's face was hard-set and a deep red with fury as her eyes remained locked on the alchemist lying still on the ground.

The hovering creature sighed lightly and cast a sideways glance down at Ana while saying, “I suppose I could always take this decrepit thing instead. You don't care much for it anyway, do you?”

“Choose your words carefully!” Reinhardt growled. His muscles tensed and shook as he started forward, hammer at the ready. Genji halted him by drawing his sword and lowering it to the back of the alchemist's head as a silent threat.

Zenyatta's unblinking stare bore into the blonde as he motioned with crooked fingers.“ _Come here._ ”

She grit her teeth and began to open her mouth when Lúcio put a hand on her shoulder and walked forward. He shot her a quick smile and mouthed 'sorry' before putting on a brave face and standing tall before the creature.

“A simple exchange, huh? Sounds like a deal to me!” The young man called, squaring his shoulders.

Angela struggled to find her footing and push herself off of Brigitte while hissing, “Lúcio, stop! You don't know what you're doing!”

He ignored her and walked closer, holding his arms out as he went to show he meant no harm. “Take me! I'm all yours! Just forget about them and let them go.”

Zenyatta hummed and moved closer as he pondered the offer. “You? The lame farm boy? What exactly do you have to offer that I don't already have?”

“Anything.”

“Oh? Is that so? Why so eager to sell yourself?”

Lúcio didn't flinch as the creature got right in his face, observing him from far too close for comfort. Neither seemed to notice Angela's continued demands for them to break apart even when they reached the point of fearful shrieks. Brigitte held her back tightly, refusing to release her no matter how hard she struggled or how awful her insults were.

“I'm not eager. I'm afraid.” Lúcio replied honestly while refusing to let his hard expression break, “But I'm more afraid about what you'd do to my friends. That's why I'll do anything.”

Zenyatta finally nodded slowly and released a low chortle as if tickled by the idea. A hand reached out to lightly rest on the center of Lúcio's chest, patting him gently. “You're pure of heart and of soul, that's admirable. To offer yourself in your precious teacher's place is both admirable and brave. You are the perfect specimen, the perfect example of what it means to be a human being: to be made stupid by sentiment.”

 His back exploded outwards from the center of the touch, spattering blood and gore across the cobblestones below. The body fell backwards almost slowly, gracefully, landing heavily in it's own entrails and shredded flesh.

Angela could only stare numbly into Lúcio's eyes, wide open and confused but unseeing in death. She could hear the apology being whispered to her despite his parted lips being perfectly still. He didn't even twitch as more of his blood trailed and pooled further out, coming to roll right up to the witch's feet.

“You are worthless.” Zenyatta said flatly, his hand still outstretched and coated in blood.

Reinhardt lunged past her with a loud roar, the sound muted by the echoing noise of Lúcio's heart forcefully ejecting from his chest cavity in her ears. Genji met him half-way with his sword at the ready. Brigitte yelled after them and didn't notice her hold slipping on the blonde.

Angela stood still and waited for herself to catch up with the rest of the world. She waited for her hearing to return to normal and the hollowness in her heart to fade away. She waited for the blood at her feet to slink back from where it came and into the veins it belonged to. She waited for someone to take her in hand and guide her forward. She waited for someone to help her understand she was waiting for.

She stood still and waited for Lúcio to offer words of comfort again, to explain to her why he would do such a careless thing, to console her patiently as always, to smile at her one last time.

But he too was still, unable to give her anything more than a single tear that slid down his temple and into his hair.

An enraged sob ripped it's way out of her throat and Angela surged forward. Her eyes, bleary with thick tears, and her chest, heaving from physical and mental agony, did nothing to stop her from reaching his side. Her hands were shaking as she dropped heavily to her knees and cupped his face, running a hand through his hair and wailing pitifully.

She had lost all ability to speak, reduced to howling nonsensical sounds of anguish. She searched his dull eyes for anything, willing him to crack a smile or whisper a silly joke to her.

His face had already started to cool at her touch and his blood had begun seeping further into her dress.

Angela couldn't catch her breath nor stop herself from hyperventilating as she dragged her hands to the gaping hole in his chest. Her movements were done without thinking, and yet she was conscious of her goal and the consequences of it. She rest her palms over the wound and managed to whimper out, “I'm so sorry, Fareeha. Please forgive me.”

“You can't!” Brigitte yelled, now behind her and trying to pull her up, “Leave him! Angela, you can't!”

Her magic centered itself in her hands and began pulling that invisible link inside her with it. She could feel herself slipping back into the abyss faster now, dragging her mind further and further into the incoherency of death. Before she could be taken entirely by it's grip, she managed to whisper one last time.

 “I have to.”

 

 

 

_The warmth of the sun radiated off the soft earth underfoot, igniting the gently swaying wheat into glowing stalks of pure light. The field, untamed by man and unmarred by footpaths, stretched far past the blue, cloudless horizon._

_Centered among it all, a lone rock stood tall above the wild crop and provided the perfect seat for the man atop it._

_He sat resting his elbows on his knees, hunched slightly with his brow furrowed in deep thought. The linen trousers and shirt he wore were as untouched as the wheat surrounding him and just as blinding._

_He said nothing as she approached him, his full attention on a spot far off in the distance._

_“What is this place?” She asked softly, afraid to interrupt the peaceful silence and his concentration._

_He shrugged his shoulders without looking down at her._

_“Paradise.”_

_She tried to trace his view, to find what he was looking for along the horizon. “Don't think too hard, you'll give yourself a headache.” She quipped with an unsure smile._

_“Hey, Angela?”_

_Her own name caught her off guard. The use of it made her realize that she didn't even remember it until he said it._

_Who was he, anyway?_

_“Yes?”_

_“Do you think people can change?”_

_She paused, pondering the question quietly until she finally decided on saying, “I hope so.”_

_“Why's that?”_

_“Because I hope I did.” She said simply. The words left her mouth instantly and her lips thinned in thought of what it meant._

_He finally looked down at her from atop his perch, a genuine smile stretching across his face as he spoke. “I think you did. For the better, too. Can I ask another question?”_

_“I don't see why not.”_

_“Do you think people always change for the better?”_

_Angela looked to the wheat and brushed her hands along the tops of the stalks closest to her. The sensation tickled her palms and brought upon a sudden sadness. The motion was familiar to her, like she had once done this in a dream or a dream of a dream. Or perhaps she was familiar with wheat in a past life._

_“That's tricky. I suppose it depends on what you see as 'better'. You said that you thought I changed for the better, but how is your view of 'better' different from another person's?”_

_“I hadn't thought about it like that. I guess that's why Brigitte and I fought so much.” She nodded in agreement despite not knowing who he was talking about. “Okay, so a new question. Do you think change is always for the better?”_

_“I think change is necessary. This wheat can only grow if the seeds change due to nature, and then it can only be made into bread if it's changed due to man. If you are to strive and live past surviving, you have to change. Everything must change. It's up to you if it's 'better' or 'worse'.”_

_The look in his eyes grew distant, misty with emotion as he jerked his head back towards the horizon. “So you think that I can't reach her because we've changed too much? And that it's for the better?”_

_Angela followed his direction to see another rock far ahead of them._

_It was the exact same rock the young man was sitting upon, but the one before them housed a woman sitting with her back to them. Her long brown hair lifted slightly with a gentle breeze and she seemed completely unaware of their presence behind them._

_The only true difference between their small patch of paradise and her own was the quality of the crop around them. All of the wheat around her had died and rotted where it stood, the grey of death surrounding her distinct against the golden shimmer of life surrounding them._

_“I keep trying to run to her.” He spoke with painful longing in his voice, “But every time that I get closer, she moves further away. I finally see her again after so long, finally get a chance to ask her where she's been, and Satya just keeps running further away.”_

_“You've both changed.” Angela noted. She reached up to take his hand and squeezed it carefully. “I think you've both changed more than either of you think. I'm sorry, Lúcio. I don't think you can reach her anymore; she's too far gone.”_

_Her brows raised slightly in surprise at saying his name, committing to repeating it a few more times to herself so it stuck._

_Lúcio wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and admitted, “I don't think I can give up on her. She's my friend. And if you're right and she really is too far gone, then that just means I have to work even harder to try and bring her back, right?”_

_“Maybe. But sometimes you just have to let someone go, even if it hurts you.”_

_“Like how you let Fareeha go?”_

_Tears were suddenly leaking from her eyes and Angela made no moves to hide them. “Yes.” She said stiffly, unsure as to what was happening or who he was talking about._

_“You should have let me go instead, Ange.” Lúcio said with a lopsided smile._

_“You silly boy, don't you remember? I made a promise to you when we first met that I would try not to leave you. I could never break a vow to you.”_

_“An unbreakable vow, huh?” He cast one last sorrowful gaze to his dear friend in the distance before sliding off his throne on the rock and taking the blonde's hands in his own._

_“You've given me more than I could ask for. You're my teacher and my friend, and you'll always be in my heart. But I can't let you die here, not yet. I vow to bring myself back using my own life, not yours. You and your soul belong to someone who's been waiting longer, I can't take that from her.”_

_Angela reached up to pull him into a hug and held onto him tightly. He embraced her back and whispered one last 'thank you' into her hair._

_Lúcio pulled away and turned back to the rock, hefting himself back atop it. “You should head back now before you're stuck here for forever. You don't have a lot of time left.”_

_“Only if you're coming with me.” She paused and cautiously asked, “You are coming back, aren't you?”_

_“Maybe. I don't know yet.” He lifted his head once seated again to stare ahead in deep thought and uttered, “I have to keep trying to reach her. Even if it takes forever.”_

_“At least promise me you'll try.” Angela said with a playful smirk._

_He grinned. “Always. I'll be along, just don't wait up on me. I'll see you later.”_

_Before the rising wind and increasing light of the world around them consumed her whole, her student called after her one last time._

_“Tell Fareeha I said 'hi'!”_

 

 

 

Waking was a gradual process.

There was little to no movement to be had save for her eyes fluttering opening, drifting to look at her own bloodied hands still resting atop Lúcio's newly intact chest.

A breeze toyed with her hair, having it dance before her face and tickle her forehead just enough to be annoying. It chilled her to the bone, beginning an unshakable shiver.

Her hair caught on the blood running from her nose and ceased it's dancing, trailing a small line across her top lip as it was blown away.

The harsh, brash sounds of swords colliding captured her attention. Setting her jaw and filled with determination, Angela pushed herself up from her resting place atop her student only to collapse back down.

Her muscles were failing, unable to hold her own weight anymore and refusing to do anything more than ache terribly. Her eyes were beginning to close again, fancying the idea of sleeping off the pain, when a new body landed beside her.

Brigitte had dropped her sword during the fall in favor of clamping both hands across her throat in an attempt to stop it from bleeding. The wound was too deep, too grievous, for such a weak attempt. She was choking on her own blood, spitting it harshly and spurting it across the ground while staring at Angela in shock.

That was enough to make the blonde's body cooperate again. Not enough to have her rise, but enough to drag her forward while gritting her teeth.

Her hands replaced the blacksmith's and she shushed her soothingly. What little magic was left in her body raced to her hands to stitch the flesh back together and reseal her throat. Brigitte fought with her the entire time, trying to push her hands away and stop her from healing.

Confused at first and ready to scorn her actions, Angela's words died on her tongue at the sharp pierce of a sword through her back.

A rough thrust and the tip came out the right side of her chest, scraping against her ribs in the most painful way possible.

“I don't know how you're still alive,” Genji whispered in her ear, “but I truly wish you had stayed dead, Angela. It would have been better for both of us.”

Having recovered enough to fight again, Brigitte kicked her armored leg up and knocked the man off balance. She took the time to scramble to her feet and pull a sizable hammer from a pouch on her hip, wielding it in one hand.

“You dense fucker!” She spat, her voice gritty and nearly gone. Angela was unsure if the insult was meant for her or Genji but weakly smiled nevertheless.

The swordsman wiped it off her face completely as he drew an anguished squeak from her and ripped the sword out of her chest, raising it toward Brigitte. They circled around each other for a few steps, Brigitte making a defensive stance with Angela behind her.

Genji looked between the two and spoke with a hushed voice. “I don't want to kill you, either of you.”

“Bullshit!” Brigitte yelled.

“I don't. But I can't disobey my master. This can end so easily, just come with me, Angela. Please.”

“I can't.” The witch wheezed. She bit her lip to try and stop herself from crying out again, unwilling to show him just how badly he wounded her. A hand clutched the leaking wound above her breast tightly and she shook her head, “You know I can't, Genji. Fareeha--”

“Is already dead. Face the truth for once, Angela. You're blinded by sentimentality.” He inched forward and swung out, managing to fake his strike at the last second and swipe low at Brigitte to knock her down.

He stumbled forward suddenly with the loud _BANG_ of a gunshot. A hand came up to touch the fine hole in the center of his chest curiously but nonchalantly. Angela's jaw dropped slightly as Genji turned to reveal Ana standing behind him with her rifle in hand.

The alchemist was panting from exertion and still sans her headscarf, her eyepatch loosely hanging around her head and not completely cover her lost eye due to a horrible cut that crossed diagonally down her face. Her one armed hold on the gun was shaky, her right arm hanging limply and dripping blood to the stones below.

“Get away from my children.” She hissed dangerously. Genji moved the tiniest bit only to receive another bullet to the chest.

The faceless man let her fire the rounds remaining in the chamber into him as he faced her fully, completely unfazed at the bullets ripping through him. “I'm sorry, Granny, but your threats mean nothing to me. Go quietly, I don't want to listen to you scream again.”

Ana grit her teeth and fired one last time into his head before rushing forward and swinging the butt of her gun into his ear. Genji took the blow easily and grasped the rifle firmly to yank it away, tossing it over the side of the bridge.

Unwilling to give up so easily, Ana ducked down and slid right past his feet while narrowly avoiding the swing of his sword. She crouched before Angela and sat between them, resting on one knee and wielding the dagger that had been lodged in her back protectively.

The alchemist kept her eyes forward but dropped her voice to utter behind her, “Brigitte, can you stand?”

“Yeah,” She groaned while sitting up and assessing the damage of her body and armor, “but I don't know how much longer I can keep this up. He's too fast and stronger than he looks. Every wound I inflict does nothing to him; how do you kill the undead?”

Ana huffed and glanced at Angela quickly, biting her lip and silently deliberating with herself. She finally opened her mouth and said, “Do you remember when we first arrived in this place and you were drawn to that massive source of magic?”

Brigitte scooted forward to rest beside her teacher and nodded hesitantly. “I do. But Ana, that magic is _extremely_ volatile--”

“I know. I've seen what it's capable of; I've gone toe-to-toe with it more than once. And being uncontrollable is what I'm counting on. Summon it, I'll buy you some time.”

The blacksmith cast a wary gaze towards the witch and nodded in understanding. She settled on her knees with her spine straight and her eyes closed, breathing deeply in concentration while narrowing her brows.

Angela looked to the old woman before her and the injuries she sustained, swaying forward. “Ana--”

“And just what the hell is wrong with you?!” The old woman snarled at the blonde without looking at her, “Are you deaf or just stupid?! What the hell did I tell you?! Avoid death, not actively seek it!”

Angela scoffed and released her wound to gripped the skirts of her dress as tightly as she could, grunting with effort as she ripped it. Managing to tear off a sizable chunk and making sure it wasn't too filthy, she sat forward to carefully cover the alchemist's hair.

She laughed at such a simple act of kindness and mentioned with a softer tone, “There won't be a point in that if we are both to die here.”

“It's not about a point.” The witched rasped, holding herself up on quivering arms to avoid collapsing. “It's about showing respect. And doing the right thing.”

Genji watched them both in silence as he loomed nearer. When Ana lashed out he knocked her away as easily as swatting a fly. “I don't feel much. I think it has everything to do with being dead.” He confessed while cutting the old woman down for a second time, “But I do feel an irrepressible rage. In the past, your apathy helped to calm it. But now you're only making it worse, Angela.”

The witch put herself between Genji and Brigitte, trying to ignore the agony and fear in her body. She tried to summon any sort of spark in her hands, anything that could help her fight or protect, but nothing came.

He stepped closer to stand above the blonde and pulled his sword back at the ready to take her head off. His eyes locked with hers as he declared, “You're going to die here, all of you. Alone and forgotten. By the time I'm finished with everyone stupid enough to stand in my way, there won't be anything left to bury. Just as I was left.”

A shrill screech pierced the air and Genji was knocked to the side by a sudden flurry of feathers and sharp talons.

Horus shrieked loudly, his thick talons sinking further into Genji's face and pulling flesh and stitches apart easily. The falcon angrily tore apart the mismatched flesh and pecked the fingers that tried to shove him off completely. He narrowly avoided being gored by the flailing sword but took a direct hit upside the head with the flat side of it. His talons shifted to better his grip and gouged straight through the swordsman's eyes with ease, eliciting a roar of anger from him.

Angela watched them struggle dumbly for a moment more before she found it in herself to stand on shaking legs. She hefted herself forward and practically fell into Genji as she tried to wrench the sword out of his hand, catching the blade against her skin and gasping as it tore through the palms of her hands.

Genji managed to elbow her right above her chest wound and it knocked what little air had been in her lungs out. Horus turned his attention to her as she stumbled to the ground in a heap, costing him his concentration and grip as Genji finally ripped him off.

Her hard breathing must have given him the spacial awareness he now couldn't see as he jerked his body toward her and readied his sword again. “I'm done humouring you!” He yelled, “You will die! One way or another!”

“Angela,” Brigitte muttered, “stay down.”

A pressure overcame the witch suddenly, so strong that it made her eyes burn and water and her wounds sting intensely. Her eyes widened at the sensation and how familiar it was, her blood boiling at the arcane surrounding her and her heart nearly stopping.

Brigitte was now standing and stepped beside her, stone-faced and wielding a new sword. It crackled with life and power, casting a purple glow that engulfed the armored woman's entire arm.

She took Fareeha's sword in both hands and rushed Genji without a second thought.

Angela cried out in horror at the sight as the two clashed again. This time as their swords met, Genji's snapped like a twig at the point of contact and went spiraling out of his hand.

Weaponless and blind, he lashed out with his fists only for Brigitte to dodge every one. She swung the sword only once and cut him straight across the stomach, one single blow that sliced him completely in half.

He toppled to the ground, his limbs still squirming and his mouth running as he swore and cursed the young woman. Brigitte ignored him and hacked away at his body, strewing him across the bridge until nothing but shredded, wriggling pieces of body remained.

Angela watched as part of Genji's hand flopped away pitifully, trying to return to the castle and the place where his master had been.

And then the sword was before her very eyes, presented to her silently. She backed away from it, unable to shake the way her skin crawled at the dark magic consuming the blade and unwilling to forget the way it controlled Fareeha's body.

“Get it away from me.”

“Let it heal your wounds,” Brigitte insisted as she brought it closer, “if anyone can control it, it's you. You shouldn't be afraid of it; it's _your_ magic, Angela.”

She was forced to touch the pommel and tensed at the rush of energy to her body. It made her stop trembling and her body stop aching, clearing her head and returning magic to her. “That's exactly why I'm afraid of it.” She said pensively. Despite her apprehension, she took the sword in her own hands and sighed at the strength it fed her.

“Reinhardt's been keeping that _thing_ busy.” Brigitte said with uncertainty, “But I don't know if that sword will be enough to take him down.”

“I have an idea,” Angela winced quietly as the wound through her chest sealed itself, “something I've been thinking of since we first got here. But if it's to work, he has to willingly accept that the idea is true to make it so.”

“That makes literally zero sense.”

“I'm aware. That's magic for you.”

Able to rise to her feet unaided and walk on her own, Angela let the sword swing from her hand almost lazily as she walked to Ana's side. A simple wave of her hand and the old woman was gasping awake, her wounds stitching themselves and granting her full alertness.

Angela walked straight past Lúcio's body without a second glance, her eyes locked on the floating creature before the fallen castle.

Zenyatta flicked a single finger to send Reinhardt cartwheeling into rubble, watching in amusement as the giant man reemerged once again battered, bloodied, and bruised but unwilling to give up. When the witch came into view, he waved Reinhardt off his feet one last time to address her completely.

“An interesting turn of events. You have embraced death so many times now that I'm not even sure you're fully alive anymore.”

“Neither do I.” Angela said with a rising anger. The longer she held onto the sword, the worse the animosity in her grew and the stronger her magic became. She couldn't help the smirk from forming on her lips as she taunted, “What ever happened to killing me to take my magic, hmm? Is it perhaps that I was right as I always am and you are absolutely nothing compared to me?”

Zenyatta chuckled at her, “You speak as though you've broken our deal. All in due time, witch.”

“All in due time indeed,” Angela grinned while waltzing forward without a care, pointing the tip of the sword at the creature, “because you fucked up and don't even realize it.”

“Since you think yourself so clever, enlighten me.”

The witch cackled and brought the sword up to rest atop her shoulder. “The deal we made was never completely established. You asked one very simple thing: to have my magic. But Zenyatta, my dear, sweet, _stupid fucking_ friend, you neglected to specify.”

She held her hand up and raised a finger with every example she listed off, “You didn't say _how_ I was suppose to give it to you exactly. You never said _how much_ of it I had to give to you. And most importantly, you never said _when_ I had to give it to you.”

“That doesn't--”

“--mean I have to do shit for you, I'm afraid. You confirmed everything I've ever said horrible about you,” Angela's grin grew wicked and she drew closer to the creature to hiss, “that you're far too pretentious for your own good and a complete amateur at making deals.”

Zenyatta said nothing. He only stared back, dumbfounded and silent as he processed the information.

Angela took the time to laugh again and get closer to him. Her head was lighter than air, a delicious delirium that grew from her re-connection with her own dark magic taking over completely as she got right in his face. “You should have thought more! Especially when trying to use my own methods against me! You're a failure, Zenyatta, and you'll never amount to anything more!”

She hit her fist against his chest harshly and shook from the magic itching to leave her body as she added for good measure, “ _You_ are the perfect example of what it means to be human! To be made _stupid_ by greed! And you are _worthless!_ ”

Enraged entirely and finally willing to show it, Zenyatta lunged forward ready to kill her with every fiber of his being.

The sword was swiped up in time to slice off his hand at the wrist, rupturing black blood everywhere and causing him to howl in shock and agony. Angela couldn't contain herself or the joyful laughter that overcame her by the sight, a sick sense of pleasure racing through her veins at his pain.

The witch whipped her hand around, forcing the creature to move with her mind as she flung him up into the air and off the side of the bridge.

 Their eyes met one last time, each alight with a bright green and unblinking as she sealed their pact with one final declaration. “You can have my magic, Zenyatta, but not until you are one second away from death!”

As he went over the edge and plummeted into the river far below, Angela waved after him with a cheerful good-bye and lost herself in another fit of giggles.

She didn't even notice the others approaching her, too drunk off of her own long lost power to care about the worried looks they gave her. “ _I love winning!_ ” She crowed into the air, twirling around and swinging the sword dangerously with her.

“Angela, maybe put the sword down now?” Brigitte cautiously mentioned.

Ignoring her and spinning over to Reinhardt, the witch took his hand in her own while grinning and asked, “Oh, shall we dance again, your majesty?”

“I think I'll have to pass this time, Madam Ziegler.” He shied away. She grabbed him again and sent her magic crawling across his skin to heal his wounds, clicking her tongue at his fear and moving on.

She came to stand before Ana and rolled her eyes at the blank look on the older woman's face. “Oh come now, Ana! Why the ghastly frown? It's a lovely night! Don't sour the mood with whatever bitch you have with me now!”

The alchemist leaned forward to crisply slap her across the face, stunning her into silence. All of the happiness within her vanished instantly and the witch stared daggers into the old woman's eyes as rage filled her chest.

“How _fucking dare you_ even _think_ about raising your hand against me after I saved your _worthless, pathetic life!_ Do you realize who I _am?!_ I'll erase you from this world! You _insufferable_ old shrew!”

Ana's expression softened and she reached out to take the blonde's hand that still clung to the sword. “Put the sword down, Angela. It's over.”

The witch paused at the gentle touch. It was in that moment of respite that she realized the fear around her, because of her, and forced the magic swirling inside of her to a grinding halt.

Her gaze drifted to the sword in her hand and Angela threw it to the ground as if it burned her. As soon as it left her hand, the ache in her body returned and her head became cloudy. Angela fell forward into Ana's waiting arms and didn't fight the exhaustion taking over.

“What just happened?” She slurred, sinking further into the old woman's hold. She was mindful of how her nose began to bleed and made an effort to avoid smearing it across Ana's shoulder.

“We need to get moving, it's nearly sundown and I don't like the idea of that thing dragging itself out of the river to chase after us.” The alchemist said, deliberately ignoring her question.

The rest of the conversation was lost to Angela as she drifted in and out of lucidity. She would force her eyes open when she could and struggled to listen to the things being said to her, but nothing stayed in her memory for long.

One of the last times she managed to rise to some sort of attention, she was seated atop Horus' back and leaning back against Ana in a slump.

Reinhardt stood beside them with Lúcio cradled in his arms and a deep frown on his face as he spoke to the alchemist in a hushed voice. Noticing the blonde stirring awake, he reached up to tap her thigh and asked carefully, “What would you like for us to do with your wife's sword, Madam Ziegler?”

Not catching his use of the word 'wife', Angela looked away in shame and muttered, “Bury it. I never want to see it again.”

She ignored the rest of their talk, only swinging her head back around as they began trotting forward.

Angela halted them and reached out to pet the top of Lúcio's head. Her heart squeezed painfully as she stroked his cold cheek. “Come home soon, my guardian angel.” She whispered.

They rode at top speed, Horus galloping through the hollow shell of the kingdom and making it appear as nothing but a blur to the witch's drooping eyes. The shadows and skeletons merged together to create ghostly images, perhaps the souls left to walk the grounds presenting themselves to watch their executioner flee one last time.

It wasn't clear to her when the lifeless stone walls ended and the boundless forest began, choosing to let her wondering fade away and sleep take hold.

Every so often she would be roused from slumber by Ana's hand or the unintentional jostling of Horus' hurried movement. Each time, she would murmur some half-hearted reassurance that she was still alive to the alchemist before drifting off again.

The few times she would wake and stay, she did nothing but weakly fuss over their traveling.

The horse beneath them wouldn't stop wheezing for air, clearly exhausted and far past his limit, but every time Angela would mention even the idea of stopping he'd only run faster. She'd offer to swap seating with Ana and let her rest for a moment only to have the old woman refuse with some snarky response.

It was only when Angela awoke to find them careening to the ground that they actually heeded her advice to stop. Horus lay on the ground, panting loudly and unable to stand again, as the two women made a small camp.

“How long have we been traveling?” Angela asked finally.

“Three days now.” Ana replied without looking up, too engrossed in building a fire. “How far away is Fareeha?”

“A week's ride at the very least.”

Horus weakly whinnied and the witch scoffed before saying, “He says five days.”

The alchemist hummed and moved to place their bed rolls. “Five days it is then.”

“He'll kill himself before we get there.” Angela pointed out bitterly. She sat heavily beside the horse and ran her hand along his tense neck, wishing she had an ounce of magic to spare within her to help ease him. His gaze met her own and he lamely tried to insist her concern was an insult to him before he could pass out into a hard sleep.

“How are you feeling?”

The question came after a few hours of nothing, the record so far if Angela could remember correctly.

“Tired.” She answered, shifting among her furs and blankets to face the old woman who still sat beside the fire. Her hands wandered down to rest on her heavy stomach and she winced at the hard kick the touch received. “He's more restless than usual.”

Ana chuckled and tossed more wood into the flames. “There's a wives tale about riding horseback for extended periods of time to induce labour, you know.”

The witch rejected the idea with a scoff and muttered, “Superstition.”

“Perhaps, but with how much your body has tried to shut down within the past few days I wouldn't be surprised if you birthed him early.”

They were both quiet again for a long period of time until Angela settled among her bedding with a long sigh. “If we both die,” She said slowly, still unsure herself of the request she was making, “would you take him to Lúcio?”

“That depends on if the boy even rises from the dead.”

“He will. I know he will.”

Ana kept her eyes on the fire as she murmured, “If you're so confident in him then you should place more confidence in yourself to also succeed.”

The witch closed her eyes and nestled her head further into her pillow while yawning, “Don't tell me you've actually gone soft on me, Ana.”

When there was no reply, she let herself slip back into the depths of slumber. It was only when she had just started to fade away that the old woman admitted, “I meant what I said before. Like it or not, you are my child now. And there isn't anything a mother wouldn't do for her children.”

Their journey seemed to last forever despite Angela missing a majority of it.

What had originally been her taking the time to sleep and try to recover some sense of self had rapidly devolved into her falling unconscious as her body tried to cease all function once more. Time and time again she had risen to Ana shaking her and screaming in her face.

And each time she promised not to close her eyes again only to wake up moments later to keep insisting.

It wasn't until she found herself vomiting everything back up right after eating that the dread sank in. Nothing would stay down no matter how hard she tried to ignore the nausea and her nose was on a constant bleed.

She felt impossibly weak, unable to lift her head and finding it difficult to respond to the alchemist more and more.

On their fifth day of travel, the day Horus continued announcing as their day of arrival, the pain reached new and excruciating heights.

Angela had dismounted with help and held herself up by leaning against a tree when the first cry left her lips. “Something's wrong.” She gasped when Ana ran to her side.

“I told you I wouldn't be surprised,” The old woman said as she took in the witch's disheveled state, “so I cannot say that I am.”

Her words cut into Angela like a sharp knife and her immediate response was to deny it despite knowing it was true herself. “It's too early.” She insisted in a rush, “There are still months to go, it's not possible.”

“I'm afraid that's not something you get to decide. We are truly running out of time now.”

True to word, they arrived to a familiar open field that eve.

And as they stumbled into the dark cottage, Angela placed herself in one of their chairs and let Ana approach her daughter in peace.

The alchemist sat on the bed gingerly, her lone eye dripping tears to the sheets as she took Fareeha's hand in her own and traced the curve of her cheek lovingly.

Unable to let the moment last forever, Angela grit her teeth to stop another agonized gasp from escaping and choked out, “Ana, help me get to her.”

Taking her former place on the bed and resting a hand on her knight's chest to steady herself, the witch took in the black veins beneath her fingertips and shook her head in shame. “I'm sorry it took me so long, Fareeha.” She whispered, “I'm here now. And I'll never leave you like that again.”

“Never indeed.” Ana replied, “Because you're going to use me to bring her back.”

Angela stared up at her in shock. “Ana, I can't just let you--”

“You can and you will.” A hand came to rest on the witch's shoulder, their bleary gazes meeting. “You've had your redemption, now let me have mine. I've lived long enough, she has not. She's my daughter, Angela. I have to.”

Slowly, unsurely, the witch took the alchemist's hand and looked to her sleeping lover. “I understand.” She whispered, centering herself and trying to ignore the pain in her body.

Her magic collected together in her hands as a bittersweet smile stretched across her face, her eyes never leaving Fareeha's face. “I understand,” she repeated, “but I cannot do such a thing. In life and death, she is mine and I am hers. I made a promise.”

Ignoring the argument yelled in her ear, the witch let all of the magic left inside her rush out and drag her back to that darkness she had become so familiar with.

Drowning deeper and deeper into oblivion and embracing death willingly, The Witch of The Wilds cast her spark of life one final time and whispered a triumphant 'good-bye'.

 

 

 

The light _pitter-patter_ of the rain outside created the perfect lullaby for the darkness of night.

The way it would tap against the window every so often accented the soft melody without overtaking it or deterring from it. A whisper of wind chased after it from the small imperfections in the walls but never howled or shrieked.

The lightning illuminated the sky outside, revealing the storm clouds and raindrops for one moment before casting the world back into nothing but shadows and the calming symphony of nature.

It was only the thunder that chased after the lightning the interrupted the otherwise lovely night, deep and ringing as it bounced across the sky only to echo off into the shadows.

And after the hits of thunder, a soft and pitiful wail of fear would begin.

Sighing, not from frustration but from the cold of the floor against bare feet, the sheets were pushed back. Rising to stand only to then bend over the bassinet, gentle hands carefully lifted the fussing baby into warm arms.

“Hush now, Fareed.” She whispered while beginning to gentle rock her arms, “It's only a little rain.”

The baby quieted at her voice, his face softening and body relaxing in her hold.

“See? Nothing to be afraid of. I am here,” Fareeha murmured as she pressed a kiss to the top of his head, “and I'll always protect you.”

She rested her cheek along his head and smiled at how his wispy hair would tickle her. Her son nudged a hand out to take her own long hair in a loose fist, making sure to keep her where she was as he huffed softly and went back to sleep.

Fareeha held him and swayed with him for a few minutes more, taking the time to make sure he was truly asleep again before returning him to the warmth of his blankets with a final kiss good night.

Settling into her own bed again, she tucked herself in tightly and tried to shake the shiver off of her skin.

The blankets and furs around her shifted and arms came to wrap around her from behind, tucking her cold self into a blessedly warm cuddle.

Grinning at the embrace and choosing to test the limits of it, Fareeha pressed the soles of her feet flat against the warm shins behind her.

She couldn't contain her giggle at the sudden gasp that followed and gladly took the hard swat to her side as punishment.

“Asshole.” Angela moaned into her neck while snuggling further into the knight.

“Oh come now, dearest,” Fareeha teased as she turned to her other side and tucked her head under the blonde's chin, “don't you want to warm me up?”

Holding her closer and already half-asleep again, Angela snorted and sighed out, “I could light you on fire if that's what you mean.”

“Harsh. Afraid I'll pass.”

They lay entwined in silence, content with just holding one another. Every now and again, one would shift their position and the other would follow to keep as much contact as possible. Despite the peace of each other and the moment, neither could fully commit to sleep.

When Fareeha would try and fix how she lay, Angela would tense and tighten her grip as if afraid to completely let go. It was something the dark haired woman could chuckle at but also understand as the feeling as mutual.

The fear of letting go for even a second was something they shared together, the clinginess of being reunited not having worn off after two weeks. It was something they both pointed out and even joked about.

When Angela would sigh, Fareeha could clearly hear how her chest rattled and the way her lungs would catch halfway before being forced to complete the cycle of breathing. It caused a knot of guilt to form in Fareeha's stomach and her mind to worry.

It was explained to her what happened to Angela when the whole story was told. It was hard to hear all of the things her lover would no longer be able to do on her own, hard to watch her have to take an unreasonable amount of medicine, hard to watch her slip away mid-sentence only to jolt awake moments later, but it was even harder knowing that she caused all of it.

Fareeha was already lost in thought, doubting herself further, when Angela whispered, “Stop thinking too hard, you'll wrinkle easier.”

She chose to deflect the nagging thoughts by quipping back, “I'm only thinking of how beautiful you are. Especially when you're snoring louder than a bear right in my ear.”

“You do know how to charm me, darling. Keep it up and I'll ravish you until you can't walk.”

Smirking at the idea and lifting up to hover above the blonde, Fareeha stole a kiss and said against her lips, “Don't tempt me.”

The mischievous glint in Angela's eye was all the permission needed to kiss her again. They were equally unable to control themselves and it deepened immediately, both spurred further on by the wet smacking and the moans one another made.

The urge to be closer came back and they scooted closer until they were practically smashed together. Fareeha lowered her hands to push both of their night gowns up and jerked away when Angela whimpered at her touch.

“I'm sorry,” Angela gasped, “I'm still sore. I don't think this is a good idea.”

“It's okay, _Habibi._ ” The knight accented her words with a loving kiss to the cheek, “We have all the time in the world.”

“True, but with a needy child right next to us I find it best to not hold out.” Fareeha raised a brow curiously at her words and stifled a gasp when the blonde pressed her down into the bed roughly. “Besides,” The coy whisper in her ear sent delicious shivers down her spine, “I'll pleasure you enough for the both of us.”

Grinning up into her lover's eyes, the dark-haired woman hoarsely quipped, “How generous of you; I can see how you got the nickname 'Mercy'.”

The snark was about to leave Angela's lips when she let out a ragged cough, turning her head away to hack into her hand. Fareeha watched somberly as a handkerchief was produced from under the pillows to assist in the coughing fit.

Despite her best efforts to try and hide it, the blood left behind on the cloth brought the guilt back to Fareeha's head. She sank back beneath the furs and sheets to press her head against Angela's chest and listen to her wheeze pitifully.

Sensing her distress, a hand came to rub at the center of Fareeha's back and Angela muttered, “I'm still here, Fareeha.”

The motions came to stop, fingers pressing into her back to feel her heartbeat. She knew what the blonde was doing – she did it often enough. Closing her eyes and breathing deeply so she could feel her heart pumping, Fareeha nodded slightly and agreed, “I'm here too.”

They lay together in silence again and basked in the closeness, accepting the comfort of each other and willing to drift to sleep.

But, true to form, as soon as their breathing grew heavy and their minds went blank, the growing cries of their son roused them back to alertness.

Fareeha gently pushed Angela back into the bed when she tried to rise and lumbered out of bed herself. Repeating her motions from earlier, she brought the tiny boy into her arms and tried to rock him into silence.

He continued wailing over her soft words and insistent hushes to the point that Angela sat up against the headboard in concern. “Does he need to be changed?”

Reluctantly, Fareeha lifted him higher to sniff at his backside and shook her head upon smelling nothing. “He doesn't feel damp either. Do you think he's hungry?”

“He was just fed!” The blonde groaned and wiped a hand down her face before extending her arms in defeat, “I swear if this greedy little bastard is already hungry again...”

Passing him over and sitting on the bedside with a cheeky grin, the dark-haired woman lifted a brow and pressed. “You'll do what, Ange?”

Her lips thinned into a hard line as she unbuttoned her gown and settled Fareed against her chest, waiting until he muffled himself on her breast before she grumbled out, “Oh, I don't know what I'll do. Be very cross, that's what.”

Fareeha brushed Angela's hair off her forehead and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. “You make a beautiful mother, you know.” She mentioned sweetly.

Smiling and letting a blush overcome her, Angela brought her lover in for a longer kiss on the lips. As they broke apart she whispered between them, “You're carrying the next one.”

“Next one? This one is bad enough, what with all the shitting and screaming and puking.”

“Are you talking about me or the baby?”

“Both? Both.”

She took the smack to the arm in stride and started to say something else when Fareed jerked himself away with a sudden cry.

Angela frowned again and bounced him in her arms slightly, drawing a tiny hiccup from him and calming him again. “You are a greedy little hog.” She sneered at the baby, her glare morphing into a private smile as she craned down to kiss him on the nose, “But I love you anyway.”

They scooted a pillow between them and carefully placed their son on it, laying on either side of him and marveling at the rise and fall of his chubby belly. Fareeha inched a finger up to gently stroke his cheek, a pudgy arm flailing up so he could wrap his hand around her fingertip.

“He's so tiny.” She breathed in wonder, lost in how minuscule his fingers were compared to her own.

Angela traced her own fingers across his head and pushed his dark hairs back. “He's going to look like you, I know it.”

“His eyes are blue though, like yours.”

“They won't be forever. They just come out like that. Or so your mother says.”

Fareeha pulled away at the mention of Ana, turning to watch the rain slide against the window instead.

A hand pulled her back by the chin and she met her lover's gaze reluctantly. “You can't keep hiding from her, Fareeha.” Angela spoke sincerely, “I know it's hard, but she's trying. Give her a chance.”

“I can't believe you of all people are saying that.” She scoffed, sighing with resignation and nodding anyway. “I know. But I just...I don't know. It's a lot.”

“I understand. I'm not asking you to send for her right now and demand she come back this instant. But when she does come visit again, you should talk with her – just the two of you. She means well.”

Unable to contain herself, Fareeha rolled her eyes and muttered, “Yeah, trying to kill you and our son on multiple occasions is definitely well meant.”

Angela frowned up at her. “That's not fair, Fareeha. I've done worse and you don't fear me. I'm not going to argue with you nor tell you how you should feel, but I will tell you that you shouldn't deny yourself your own family.”

“My family is right here.” She insisted, “We don't need her. I don't need her.”

“Fareeha, she saved my life – more than once might I add. She saved Fareed too. I'm not going to deny him the right to his grandmother just because you're too scared to even see her.”

Flushed from embarrassment and anger, Fareeha raised her voice and declared, “I am not afraid of her!”

Angela gave her look from the corners of her eyes as she soothed Fareed from fussing again at the outburst. “You're not,” She clarified quietly, “you're terrified of her. And that's okay, Fareeha. You have the right to be angry and upset and confused. I don't want to push you, I just want you to heal.”

“I know,” The knight admitted as she hung her head, “I am scared.”

“So am I.” The blonde chuckled. She placed another kiss on their baby's head and added, “But I feel better with you here.”

Fareeha watched the two snuggle quietly for a moment, biting her lip and questioning herself if she should open her mouth. She found her courage after another minute. “How long do you think we both have?”

“A few more years at least.” Angela answered without hesitating, “Enough to watch him grow up.”

Forcing herself to smile at the thought of watching him grow, the knight reclined onto the bed again and kept her finger atop Fareed's stomach. “Do you think he'll have magic like you?”

“I hope not, truly. I want him to have a long, happy, normal life. I wouldn't wish my magic upon him for anything in the world.”

“That'll disappoint your student. From those letters we received, he's counting on Fareed to learn from him one day.”

Angela smiled at the thought and said, “Lúcio will be a great teacher to him regardless. He'll watch over him.”

Fareeha hummed in agreement and they locked eyes again. “So what do we do now? No magic, a very temperamental baby, a lot of catching up, and a hard winter ahead of us. Do you have a crystal ball we can look into or any grand predictions for the future?”

“Well, the land is rather fertile here; the stream run through the field is a good start. I could teach you how to farm in the spring. It's been decades since I've grown crop, but I'm sure I can remember how.”

“You want us, an errant knight from a land far away and a wicked witch, to settle down and plant wheat for the rest of our days?” She made herself laugh at how serious she sounded and finished with a drawn out sigh. “I couldn't dream of a better way to spend my time with you.”

“Fareeha,” Angela spoke with a sudden humorless tone, “I never want him to know about me.”

Her frown became genuine and she asked cautiously, “Are you sure you don't want to tell him? I understand your reasoning, but he's going to find out some day. You must know that – especially with that creature still out there after you.”

The blonde watched their son breathe gently with sleep, a distant look in her eye. “I know. I can never forget.” She confessed, “But if I must tell him, I'm going to tell him everything. Not parts of it. _Everything._ ”

“I understand. We'll tell him together, _Habibi._ ”

“Fareeha?”

A smile was shared between them when their eyes met. “I love you.” Angela whispered.

“I love you too. Now and always.” Fareeha leaned over to kiss their baby's cheek and declare quieter with a slight yawn, “And I love you.”

The two reached over their son to meet in a loving kiss good night, smiling all the while and unafraid to show their happiness.

“I'm glad you saved me.” The witch said.

“Likewise.” The knight replied. “And I'd do it over and over again for you, across a million different lives until the end of time itself. I will always fall in love with you, always find you and save you, and I'll always be with you.”

“Is that a promise, my noble knight?”

“It is my everlasting vow, my lovely witch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Whether you've been with it since the first chapter released almost a year ago or just now started, from the bottom of my heart - thank you. I've enjoyed writing this story and listening to all of your responses more than words can say. I truly hope the long waits were worth it and that you found entertainment in every paragraph. 
> 
> Thank you again and again for the lovely words. Mange Tak.


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